•HOUSE-BYTHE-MEDLAR-TREE-  R 


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GIOVANNI  •  VER  G  A- 


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GIOVANNI     VERGA 


THE 


HOUSE  BY  THE  MEDLAR-TREE 


THE  TRANSLATION 

BY    MARY   A.  CRAIG 

AN    INTRODUCTION 

BY    W.   D.    HO  WELLS 


NEW    YORK 
HARPER   &    BROTHERS,   FRANKLIN    SQUARE 

1890 


Copyright,  1890,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 


All  rights  reserved. 


INTRODUCTION. 


ANY  one  who  loves  simplicity  or  respects 
sincerity,  any  one  who  feels  the  tie  binding  us 
all  together  in  the  helplessness  of  our  common 
human  life,  and  running  from  the  lowliest  as 
well  as  the  highest  to  the  Mystery  immeasur- 
ably above  the  whole  earth,  must  find  a  rare 
and  tender  pleasure  in  this  simple  story  of  an 
Italian  fishing  village.  I  cannot  promise  that 
it  will  interest  any  other  sort  of  readers,  but 
I  do  not  believe  that  any  other  sort  are  worth 
interesting;  and  so  I  can  praise  Signer  Verga's 
book  without  reserve  as  one  of  the  most  per- 
fect pieces  of  literature  that  I  know. 

When  we  talk  of  the  great  modern  move- 
ment towards  reality  we  speak  without  the 
documents  if  we  leave  this  book  out  of  the 
count,  for  I  can  think  of  no  other  novel  in 
which  the  facts  have  been  more  faithfully  re- 
produced, or  with  a  profounder  regard  for  the 
poetry  that  resides  in  facts  and  resides  no- 


IV  INTRODUCTION. 

where  else.  Signor  Verdi  began  long  ago,  in 
his  Vita  dci  Cainpi  (" :  Life  of  the  Fields")  to 
give  proof  of  his  fitness  to  live  in  our  time ; 
and  after  some  excursions  in  the  region  of 
French  naturalism,  he  here  returns  to  the  orig- 
inal sources  of  his  inspiration,  and  offers  us  a 
masterpiece  of  the  finest  realism. 

He  is,  I  believe,  a  Sicilian,  of  that  meridional 
race  among  whom  the  Italian  language  first 
took  form,  and  who  in  these  latest  days  have 
done  some  of  the  best  things  in  Italian  litera- 
ture. It  is  of  the  far  South  that  he  writes, 
and  of  people  whose  passions  are  elemental 
and  whose  natures  are  simple.  The  characters, 
therefore,  are  types  of  good  and  of  evil,  of  good 
and  of  generosity,  of  truth  and  of  falsehood. 
They  are  not  the  less  personal  for  this  reason, 
and  the  life  which  they  embody  is  none  the 
less  veritable.  It  will  be  well  for  the  reader 
who  comes  to  this  book  with  the  usual  prej- 
udices against  the  Southern  Italians  to  know 
that  such  souls  as  Padron  'Ntoni  and  Maruzza 
la  Longa,  with  their  impassioned  conceptions 
of  honor  and  duty,  exist  among  them  ;  and 
that  such  love  idyls  as  that  of  Mena  and  Alfio, 
so  sweet,  so  pure,  and  the  happier  but  not  less 
charming  every-day  romance  of  Alessio  and 
Nunziata,  are  passages  of  a  life  supposed  wholly 


INTRODUCTION.  V 

benighted  and  degraded.  This  poet,  as  I  must 
call  the  author,  does  again  the  highest  office  of 
poetry,  in  making  us  intimate  with  the  hearts 
of  men  of  another  faith,  race,  and  condition, 
and  teaching  us  how  like  ourselves  they  are  in 
all  that  is  truest  in  them.  Padron  'Ntoni  and 
La  Longa,  Luca,  Mena,  Alfio,  Nunziata,  Alessio, 
if  harshlier  named,  might  pass  for  New  England 
types,  which  we  boast  the  product  of  Puritan- 
ism, but  which  are  really  the  product  of  con- 
science and  order.  The  children  of  disorder 
who  move  through  the  story — the  selfish,  the 
vicious,  the  greedy,  like  Don  Sylvestro,  and 
La  Vespa,  and  Goosefoot,  and  Dumb-bell,  or 
the  merely  weak,  like  poor  'Ntoni  Malavoglia 
— are  not  so  different  from  our  own  images 
either,  when  seen  in  this  clear  glass,  which  falsi- 
ifies  and  distorts  nothing. 

Few  tales,  I  think,  are  more  moving,  more 
full  of  heartbreak  than  this ,  for  few  are  so 
honest.  By  this  I  mean  that  the  effect  in  it 
is  precisely  that  which  the  author  aimed  at. 
He  meant  to  let  us  see  just  what  manner  of 
men  and  women  went  to  make  up  the  life  of  a 
little  Italian  town  of  the  present  day,  and  he 
meant  to  let  the  people  show  themselves  with 
the  least  possible  explanation  or  comment  from 
him.  The  transaction  of  the  story  is  in  the 


VI  INTRODUCTION. 

highest  degree  dramatic  ;  but  events  follow  one 
another  with  the  eveivsequence  of  hours  on 
the  clock.  You  are  not  prepared  to  value 
them  beforehand ;  they  are  not  advertised  to 
tempt  your  curiosity  like  feats  promised  at  the 
circus,  in  the  fashion  of  the  feebler  novels ; 
often  it  is  in  the  retrospect  that  you  recognize 
their  importance  and  perceive  their  full  signifi- 
cance. In  this  most  subtly  artistic  manage- 
ment of  his  material  the  author  is  most  a  mas- 
ter, and  almost  more  than  any  other  he  has 
the  rare  gift  of  trusting  the  intelligence  of  his 
reader.  He  seems  to  have  no  more  sense  of 
authority  or  supremacy  concerning  the  person- 
ages than  any  one  of  them  would  have  in  tell- 
ing the  story,  and  he  has  as  completely  freed 
himself  from  literosity  as  the  most  unlettered 
among  them.  Under  his  faithful  touch  life 
seems  mainly  sad  in  Trezza,  because  life  is 
mainly  sad  everywhere,  and  because  men 
there  have  not  yet  adjusted  themselves  to  the 
only  terms  which  can  render  life  tolerable  any- 
where. They  are  still  rivals,  traitors,  enemies, 
and  have  not  learned  that  in  the  vast  orphanage 
of  nature  they  have  no  resource  but  love  and 
union  among  themselves  and  submission  to 
the  unfathomable  wisdom  which  was  before 
they  were.  Yet  seen  aright  this  picture  of  a 


INTRODUCTION.  Vll 

little  bit  of  the  world,  very  common  and  low 
down  and  far  off,  has  a  consolation  which  no 
one  need  miss.  There,  as  in  every  part  of  the 
world,  and  in  the  whole  world,  goodness  brings 
not  pleasure,  not  happiness,  but  it  brings  peace 
and  rest  to  the  soul  and,  lightens  all  burdens ; 
the  trial  and  the  sorrow  go  on  for  good  and 
evil  alike ;  only,  those  who  choose  the  evil 
have  no  peace. 

W.  D.  HOWELLS. 


THE 
HOUSE  BY  THE  MEDLAR-TREE. 


i. 

ONCE  the  Malavoglia  were  as  numerous  as  the 
stones  on  the  old  road  to  Trezza;  there  were  some 
even  at  Ognino  and  at  Aci  Castello,  and  good  and 
brave  seafaring  folk,  quite  the  opposite  of  what 
they  might  appear  to  be  from  their  nickname  of 
the  Ill-wills,  as  is  but  right.  In  fact,  in  the  parish 
books  they  were  called  Toscani ;  but  that  meant 
nothing,  because,  since  the  world  was  a  world,  at 
Ognino,  at  Trezza,  and  at  Aci  Castello  they  had 
been  known  as  Malavoglia,  from  father  to  son, 
who  had  always  had  boats  on  the  water  and  tiles 
in  the  sun.  Now  at  Trezza  there  remained  only 
Padron  'Ntoni  and  his  family,  who  owned  the  Prov- 
videnza,  which  was  anchored  in  the  sand  below  the 
washing-tank  by  the  side  of  Uncle  Cola's  Concetta 
and  Padron  Fortunato  Cipolla's  bark.  The  tem- 
pests, which  had  scattered  all  the  other  Malavoglia 
to  the  four  winds,  had  passed  over  the  house  by 
the  medlar -tree  and  the  boat  anchored  under  the 


2  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

tank  without  doing  any  great  damage ;  and  Padron 
'Ntoni,  to  explain  the  miracle,  used  to  say,  showing 
his  closed  fist,  a  fist  which  looked  as  if  it  were  made 
of  walnut  wood,  "  To  pull  a  good  oar  the  five  fingers 
must  help  one  another."  He  also  said,  "  Men  are 
like  the  fingers  of  the  hand — the  thumb  must  be  the 
thumb,  and  the  little  finger  the  little  finger." 

And  Padron  'Ntoni's  little  family  was  really  dis- 
posed like  the  fingers  of  a  hand.  First,  he  came — 
the  thumb — who  ordered  the  fasts  and  the  feasts  in 
the  house  ;  then  Bastian,  his  son,  called  Bastianazzo 
because  he  was  as  big  and  as  grand  as  the  Saint 
Christopher  which  was  painted  over  the  arch  of  the 
fish-market  in  town ;  and  big  and  grand  as  he  was, 
he  went  right  about  at  the  word  of  command,  and 
wouldn't  have  blown  his  nose  unless  his  father  had 
told  him  to  do  it.  So  he  took  to  wife  La  Longa 
when  his  father  said  to  him  "  Take  her !"  Then 
came  La  Longa,  a  little  woman  who  attended  to  her 
weaving,  her  salting  of  anchovies,  and  her  babies, 
as  a  good  house-keeper  should  do ;  last,  the  grand- 
children in  the  order  of  their  age — 'Ntoni,  the  eldest, 
a  big  fellow  of  twenty,  who  was  always  getting  cuffs 
from  his  grandfather,  and  then  kicks  a  little  farther 
down  if  the  cuffs  had  been  heavy  enough  to  disturb 
his  equilibrium  ;  Luca,  "  who  had  more  sense  than 
the  big  one,"  the  grandfather  said ;  Mena  (Filo- 
mena),  surnamed  Sant'Agata,  because  she  was  al- 
ways at  the  loom,  and  the  proverb  goes,  "  Woman  at 
the  loom,  hen  in  the  coop,  and  mullet  in  January;" 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  3 

Alessio,  our  urchin,  that  was  his  grandfather  all 
over ;  and  Lia  (Rosalia),  as  yet  neither  fish  nor 
flesh.  On  Sunday,  when  they  went  into  church  one 
after  another,  they  looked  like  a  procession. 

Padron  'Ntoni  was  in  the  habit  of  using  certain 
proverbs  and  sayings  of  old  times,  for,  said  he,  the 
sayings  of  the  ancients  never  lie  :  "  Without  a  pilot 
the  boat  won't  go ;"  "  To  be  pope  one  must  begin 
by  being  sacristan,"  or,  "  Stick  to  the  trade  you 
know,  somehow  you'll  manage  to  go  ;"  "  Be  content 
to  be  what  your  father  was,  then  you'll  be  neither  a 
knave  nor  an  ass,"  and  other  wise  saws.  There- 
fore the  house  by  the  medlar  was  prosperous,  and 
Padron  'Ntoni  passed  for  one  of  the  weighty  men 
of  the  village,  to  that  extent  that  they  would  have 
made  him  a  communal  councillor.  Only  Don  Sil- 
vestro,  the  town-clerk,  who  was  very  knowing,  in- 
sisted that  he  was  a  rotten  codino,  a  reactionary  who 
went  in  for  the  Bourbons,  and  conspired  for  the 
return  of  Franceschello,  that  he  might  tyrannize 
over  the  village  as  he  tyrannized  over  his  own  house. 
Padron  'Ntoni,  instead,  did  not  even  know  France- 
schello by  sight,  and  used  to  say,  "  He  who  has  the 
management  of  a  house  cannot  sleep  when  he  likes, 
for  he  who  commands  must  give  account."  In  De- 
cember, 1863,  'Ntoni,  the  eldest  grandson,  was  call- 
ed up  for  the  naval  conscription.  Padron  'Ntoni 
had  recourse  to  the  big-wigs  of  the  village,  who  are 
those  who  can  help  us  if  they  like.  But  Don  Giam- 
maria,  the  vicar,  replied  that  he  deserved  it,  and 


4  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

that  it  was  the  fruit  of  that  satanic  revolution  which 
they  had  made,  hanging  that  tricolored  handker- 
chief to  the  campanile.  Don  Franco,  the  druggist, 
on  the  other  hand,  laughed  under  his  beard,  and  said 
it  was  quite  time  there  should  be  a  revolution,  and 
that  then  they  would  send  all  those  fellows  of  the 
draft  and  the  taxes  flying,  and  there  would  be  no  more 
soldiers,  but  everybody  would  go  out  and  fight  for 
their  country  if  there  was  need  of  it.  Then  Padron 
'Ntoni  begged  and  prayed  him,  for  the  love  of  God, 
to  make  the  revolution  quickly,  before  his  grandson 
'Ntoni  went  for  a  soldier,  as  if  Don  Franco  had  it 
in  his  pocket,  so  that  at  last  the  druggist  flew  into  a 
rage.  Then  Don  Silvestro,  the  town-clerk,  dislocat- 
ed his  jaws  with  laughter  at  the  talk,  and  finally  he 
said  that  by  means  of  certain  little  packets,  slipped 
into  certain  pockets  that  he  knew  of,  they  might 
manage  to  get  his  nephew  found  defective  in  some 
way,  and  sent  back  for  a  year.  Unfortunately,  the 
doctor,  when  he  saw  the  tall  youth,  told  him  that  his 
only  defect  was  to  be  planted  like  a  column  on  those 
big  ugly  feet,  that  looked  like  the  leaves  of  a  prick- 
ly-pear, but  such  feet  as  that  would  be  of  more  use 
on  the  deck  of  an  iron-clad  in  certain  rough  times 
that  were  coming  than  pretty  small  ones  in  tight 
boots ;  and  so  he  took  'Ntoni,  without  saying  "  by 
your  leave."  La  Longa,  when  the  conscripts  went 
up  to  their  quarters,  trotted  breathless  by  the  side 
of  her  long-legged  son,  reminding  him  that  he  must 
always  remember  to  keep  round  his  neck  the  piece 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  5 

of  the  Madonna's  dress  that  she  had  given  him,  and 
to  send  home  news  whenever  any  one  came  that 
way  that  he  knew,  and  she  would  give  him  money 
to  buy  paper. 

The  grandfather,  being  a  man,  said  nothing ;  but 
felt  a  lump  in  his  throat,  too,  and  would  not  look 
his  daughter-in-law  in  the  face,  so  that  it  seemed  as 
if  he  were  angry  with  her.  So  they  returned  to  Aci 
Trezza,  silent,  with  bowed  heads.  Bastianazzo,who 
had  unloaded  the  Provvidenza  in  a  great  hurry,  went 
to  meet  them  at  the  top  of  the  street,  and  when  he 
saw  them  coming,  sadly,  with  their  shoes  in  their 
hands,  had  no  heart  to  speak,  but  turned  round  and 
went  back  with  them  to  the  house.  La  Longa  rush- 
ed away  to  the  kitchen,  longing  to  find  herself  alone 
with  the  familiar  saucepans;  and  Padron  'Ntoni  said 
to  his  son,  "Go  and  say  something  to  that  poor 
child ;  she  can  bear  it  no  longer."  The  day  after 
they  all  went  back  to  the  station  of  Aci  Castello  to 
see  the  train  pass  with  the  conscripts  who  were 
going  to  Messina,  and  waited  behind  the  bars  hus- 
tled by  the  crowd  for  more  than  an  hour.  Finally 
the  train  arrived,  and  they  saw  their  boys,  all  swarm- 
ing with  their  heads  out  of  the  little  windows  like 
oxen  going  to  a  fair.  The  singing,  the  laughter, 
and  the  noise  made  it  seem  like  the  Festa  of  Tre- 
castagni,  and  in  the  flurry  and  the  fuss  they  forgot 
their  aching  hearts  for  a  while. 

"Adieu,  'Ntoni !  Adieu,  mamma  !  Addio.  Re- 
member !  remember !"  Near  by,  on  the  margin  of 


6  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

the  ditch,  pretending  to  be  cutting  grass  for  the 
calf,  was  Cousin  Tudda's  Sara ;  but  Cousin  Venera, 
the  Zuppidda  (hobbler),  went  on  whispering  that  she 
had  come  there  to  see  Padron  'Ntoni's  'Ntoni,  with 
whom  she  used  to  talk  over  the  wall  of  the  garden. 
She  had  seen  them  herself,  with  those  very  eyes, 
which  the  worms  would  one  day  devour.  Certain 
it  is  that  'Ntoni  waved  his  hand  to  Sara,  and  that 
she  stood  still,  with  the  sickle  in  her  hand,  gazing 
at  the  train  as  long  as  it  was  there.  To  La  Longa 
it  seemed  that  that  wave  of  the  hand  had  been 
stolen  from  her,  and  when  she  met  Cousin  Tudda's 
Sara  on  the  piazza  (public  square),  or  at  the  tank 
where  they  washed,  she  turned  her  back  on  her  for 
a  long  time  after.  Then  the  train  moved  off,  hiss- 
ing and  screaming  so  as  to  drown  the  adieus  and 
the  songs.  And  then  the  curious  crowd  dispersed, 
leaving  only  a  few  poor  women  and  some  poor 
devils  that  still  stood  clinging  to  the  bars  without 
knowing  why.  Then,  one  by  one,  they  also  moved 
away,  and  Padron  'Ntoni,  guessing  that  his  daughter- 
in-law  must  have  a  bitter  taste  in  her  mouth,  spent 
two  centimes  for  a  glass  of  water,  with  lemon-juice 
in  it,  for  her.  Cousin  Venera,  the  Zuppidda,  to  com- 
fort her  gossip  La  Longa,  said  to  her,  "  Now,  you 
may  set  your  heart  at  rest,  for,  for  five  years  you 
may  look  upon  your  son  as  dead,  and  think  no  more 
about  him." 

But  they  did  think  of  him  all  the  time  at  the 
house  by  the  medlar — now  it  would  be  a  plate  too 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  7 

many  which  La  Longa  found  in  her  hand  when  she 
was  getting  supper  ready;  now  some  knot  or  other 
that  nobody  could  tie  like  'Ntoni  in  the  rigging — 
and  when  some  rope  had  to  be  pulled  taut,  or 
turn  some  screw,  the  grandfather  groaning,  "  O-hi ! 
O-o-o-o-hi !"  ejaculated :  "  Here  we  want  'Ntoni !"  or 
"  Do  you  think  I  have  a  wrist  like  that  boy's  ?" 
The  mother,  passing  the  shuttle  through  the  loom 
that  went  one,  two,  three !  thought  of  the  bourn, 
bourn  of  the  engine  that  had  dragged  away  her  son, 
which  had  sounded  ever  since  in  her  heart,  one ! — 
two! — three  ! 

The  grandpapa,  too,  had  certain  singular  methods 
of  consolation.  "What  will  you  have?  A  little 
soldiering  will  do  that  boy  good ;  he  always  liked 
better  to  carry  his  two  arms  out  a-walking  of  a  Sun- 
day than  to  work  with  them  for  his  bread."  Or, 
"  When  he  has  learned  how  salt  the  bread  is  that 
one  eats  elsewhere  he  won't  growl  any  longer  about 
the  minestra*  at  home." 

Finally,  there  arrived  the  first  letter  from  'Ntoni, 
which  convulsed  the  village.  He  said  that  the  wom- 
en oft  there  swept  the  streets  with  their  silk  petti- 
coats, and  that  on  the  mole  there  was  Punch's  the- 
atre, and  that  they  sold  those  little  round  cheeses, 
that  rich  people  eat,  for  two  centimes,  and  that  one 
could  not  get  along  without  soldi ;  that  did  well 
enough  at  Trezza,  where,  unless  one  went  to  San- 

*  Macaroni  of  inferior  quality. 


8  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

tuzza's,  at  the  tavern,  one  didn't  know  how  to  spend 
one's  money. 

"  Set  him  up  with  his  cheeses,  the  glutton,"  said 
his  grandfather.  "  He  can't  help  it,  though  ;  he  al- 
ways was  like  that.  If  I  hadn't  held  him  at  the 
font  in  these  arms,  I  should  have  said  Don  Giam- 
inaria  had  put  sugar  in  his  mouth  instead  of  salt." 

The  Mangiacarubbe  when  she  was  at  the  tank, 
and  Cousin  Tudda's  Sara  was  by,  went  on  saying : 

"  Certainly.  Those  ladies  with  the  silk  dresses 
waited  on  purpose  for  Padron  'Ntoni's  'Ntoni  to 
steal  him  away.  They  haven't  got  any  pumpkin- 
heads  down  there  !" 

The  others  held  their  sides  with  laughing,  and 
henceforth  the  envious  girls  called  'Ntoni  "pump- 
kin-head." 

'Ntoni  had  sent  his  portrait,  too ;  all  the  girls  at 
the  tank  had  seen  it,  as  Sara  showed  it  to  one  after 
another,  passing  it  under  her  apron,  and  the  Man- 
giacarubbe shivered  with  jealousy.  He  looked  like 
Saint  Michael  the  Archangel  with  those  feet  planted 
on  a  fine  carpet,  and  a  curtain  behind  his  head,  like 
that  of  the  Madonna  at  Ognino ;  and  he  was  so 
handsome,  so  clean,  and  smooth  and  neat,  that  the 
mother  that  *bore  him  wouldn't  have  known  him ; 
and  poor  La  Longa  was  never  tired  of  gazing  at  the 
curtain  and  the  carpet  and  that  pillar,  against  which 
her  son  stood  up  stiff  as  a  post,  scratching  with 
his  hand  the  back  of  a  beautiful  arm-chair ;  and  she 
thanked  God  and  the  saints  who  had  placed  her 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  9 

boy  in  the  midst  of  such  splendors.  She  kept  the 
portrait  on  the  bureau,  under  the  glass  globe  which 
covered  the  figure  of  the  Good  Shepherd ;  so  that 
she  said  her  prayers  to  it,  the  Zuppidda  said,  and 
thought  she  had  a  great  treasure  on  the  bureau;  and, 
after  all,  Sister  Mariangela,  the  Santuzza,  had  just 
such  another  (anybody  that  cared  to  might  see  it) 
that  Cousin  Mariano  Cinghialenta  had  given  her, 
and  she  kept  it  nailed  upon  the  tavern  counter, 
among  the  bottles. 

But  after  a  while  'Ntoni  got  hold  of.  a  comrade 
who  could  write,  and  then  he  let  himself  go  in  abuse 
of  the  hard  life  on  board  ship,  the  discipline,  the 
superiors,  the  thin  rice  soup,  and  the  tight  shoes. 
"A  letter  that  wasn't  worth  the  twenty  centimes  for 
the  postage,"  said  Padron  'Ntoni.  La  Longa  scold- 
ed about  the  writing,  that  looked  like  a  lot  of  fish- 
hooks, and  said  nothing  worth  hearing. 

Bastianazzo  shook  his  head,  saying  no;  it  wasn't 
good  at  all,  and  that  if  it  had  been  he,  he  would 
have  always  put  nice  things  to  please  people  down 
there  on  the  paper — pointing  at  it  with  a  finger  as 
big  as  the  pin  of  a  rowlock — if  it  were  only  out  of 
compassion  for  La  Longa,  who,  since  her  boy  was 
gone,  went  about  like  a  cat  that  had  lost  her  kitten. 
Padron  'Ntoni  went  in  secret,  first,  to  Don  Giam- 
maria,  and  then  to  Don  Franco,  the  druggist,  and 
got  the  letter  read  to  him  by  both  of  them  ;  and  as 
they  were  of  opposite  ways  of  thinking,  he  was  per- 
suaded that  it  was  really  written  there  as  they  said ; 


10  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

and  then  he  went  on  saying  to  Bastianazzo  and  to 
his  wife  : 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  boy  ought  to  have  been 
born  rich,  like  Padron  Cipolla's  son,  that  he  might 
have  nothing  to  do  but  lie  in  the  sun  and  scratch 
himself  ?" 

Meanwhile  the  year  was  a  bad  one,  and  the  fish 
had  to  be  given  for  the  souls  of  the  dead,  now  that 
Christians  had  taken  to  eating  meat  on  Friday  like 
so  many  Turks.  Besides,  the  men  who  remained 
at  home  were  not  enough  to  manage  the  boat,  and 
sometimes  they  had  to  take  La  Locca's  Menico,  by 
the  day,  to  help.  The  King  did  this  way,  you  see 
—  he  took  the  boys  just  as  they  got  big  enough 
to  earn  their  living;  while  they  were  little,  and  had 
to  be  fed,  he  left  them  at  home.  And  there  was 
Mena,  too ;  the  girl  was  seventeen,  and  the  youths 
began  to  stop  and  stare  at  her  as  she  went  into 
church.  So  it  was  necessary  to  work  with  hands 
and  feet  too  to  drive  that  boat,  at  the  house  by 
the  medlar-tree. 

Padron  'Ntoni,  therefore,  to  drive  the  bark,  had 
arranged  with  Uncle  Crucifix  Dumb-bell  an  affair 
concerning  certain  lupins*  to  be  bought  on  credit 
and  sold  again  at  Riposto,  where  Cousin  Cinghia- 
lenta,  the  carrier,  said  there  was  a  boat  loading  for 
Trieste.  In  fact,  the  lupins  were  beginning  to  rot ; 
but  they  were  all  that  were  to  be  had  at  Trezza, 

*  Coarse  flat  beans. 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  II 

and  that  old  rascal  Dumb-bell  knew  that  the  Prov- 
videnza  was  eating  her  head  off  and  doing  nothing, 
so  he  pretended  to  be  very  stupid,  indeed.  "  Eh ! 
too  much  is  it?  Let  it  alone,  then!  But  I  can't 
take  a  centime  less !  I  can't,  on  my  conscience  ! 
I  must  answer  for  my  soul  to  God !  I  can't  "- 
and  shook  his  head  till  it  looked  in  real  earnest 
like  a  bell  without  a  clapper.  This  conversation 
took  place  at  the  door  of  the  church  at  Ognino,  on 
the  first  Sunday  in  September,  which  was  the  feast 
of  Our  Lady.  There  was  a  great  concourse  of 
people  from  all  the  neighborhood,  and  there  was 
present  also  Cousin  Agostino  Goosefoot,  who,  by 
talking  and  joking,  managed  to  get  them  to  agree 
upon  two  scudi  and  ten  the  bag,  to  be  paid  by  the 
month.  It  was  always  so  with  Uncle  Crucifix,  he 
said,  because  he  had  that  cursed  weakness  of  not 
being  able  to  say  no.  "As  if  you  couldn't  say  no 
when  you  like,"  sneered  Goosefoot.  "  You're  like 
the —  And  he  told  him  what  he  was  like. 

When  La  Longa  heard  of  the  business  of  the  lu- 
pins, she  opened  her  eyes  very  wide  indeed,  as  they 
sat  with  their  elbows  on  the  table-cloth  after  sup- 
per, and  it  seemed  as  if  she  felt,  the  weight  of  that 
sum  of  forty  scudi  on  her  stomach.  But  she  said 
nothing,  because  women  have  nothing  to  do  with 
such  things ;  and  Padron  'Ntoni  explained  to  her 
how,  if  the  affair  was  successful,  there  would  be 
bread  for  the  winter  and  ear-rings  for  Mena,  and 
Bastiano  could  go  and  come  in  a  week  from  Ri- 


12  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

posto  with  La  Locca's  Menico.  Bastiano,  mean- 
time, snuffed  the  candle  and  said  nothing.  So  the 
affair  of  the  lupins  was  arranged,  and  the  voyage  of 
the  Provvidenza,  which  was  the  oldest  boat  in  the 
village,  but  was  supposed  to  be  very  lucky.  Ma- 
ruzza  had  a  heavy  heart,  but  did  not  speak;  he 
went  about  indefatigably,  preparing  everything,  put- 
ting the  boat  in  order,  and  filling  the  cupboard  with 
provisions  for  the  journey — fresh  bread,  the  jar 
with  oil,  the  onions — and  putting  the  fur-lined  coat 
under  the  deck. 

The  men  had  been  very  busy  all  day  with  that 
usurer  Uncle  Crucifix,  who  had  sold  a  pig  in  a 
poke,  and  the  lupins  were  spoiling.  Dumb-bell 
swore  that  he  knew  nothing  about  it,  in  God's  truth ! 
"  Bargaining  is  no  cheating ;"  was  he  likely  to  throw 
his  soul  to  the  pigs  ?  And  Goosefoot  scolded  and 
blasphemed  like  one  possessed — to  bring  them  to 
agreement,  swearing  that  such  a  thing  had  never 
happened  to  him  before ;  and  he  thrust  his  hands 
among  the  lupins,  and  held  them  up  before  God  and 
the  Madonna,  calling  them  to  witness.  At  last — 
red,  panting,  desperate  —  he  made  a  wild  proposi- 
tion, and  flung  it  in  the  face  of  Uncle  Crucifix  (who 
pretended  to  be  quite  stupefied),  and  of  the  Mala- 
voglia,  with  the  sacks  in  their  hands.  "  There ! 
pay  it  at  Christmas,  instead  of  paying  so  much  a 
month,  and  you  will  gain  two  soldi  the  sack !  Now 
make  an  end  of  it.  Holy  Devil !"  and  he  began  to 
measure  them.  "  In  God's  name,  one  !" 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  13 

The  Provvidenza  went  off  on  Saturday,  towards 
evening,  when  the  Ave  Maria  should  have  been  ring- 
ing; only  the  bell  was  silent  because  Master  Cirino, 
the  sacristan,  had  gone  to  carry  a  pair  of  new  boots 
to  Don  Silvestro,  the  town-clerk;  at  that  hour  the 
girls  crowded  like  a  flight  of  sparrows  about  the 
fountain,  and  the  evening-star  was  shining  brightly 
already  just  over  the  mast  of  the  Provvidenza,  like 
a  lamp.  Maruzza,  with  her  baby  in  her  arms,  stood 
on  the  shore,  without  speaking,  while  her  husband 
loosed  the  sail,  and  the  Provvidenza  danced  on  the 
broken  waves  by  the  Fariglione  *  like  a  cluck. 
"  Clear  south  wind  and  dark  north,  go  fearlessly 
forth,"  said  Padron  'Ntoni,  from  the  landing,  look- 
ing towards  the  mountains,  dark  with  clouds. 

La  Locca's  Menico,  who  was  in  the  Provvidenza 
with  Bastianazzo,  called  out  something  which  was 
lost  in  the  sound  of  the  sea.  "  He  said  you  may 
give  the  money  to  his  mother,  for  his  brother  is  out 
of  work ;"  called  Bastianazzo,  and  that  was  the  last 
word  that  was  heard. 


II. 

IN  the  whole  place  nothing  was  talked  of  but  the 
affair  of  the  lupins,  and  as  La  Longa  returned  with 


*  Rocks  rising  straight  out  of  the  sea,  separate  from  the 
shore. 


14  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

Lia  from  the  beach  the  gossips  came  to  their  doors 
to  see  her  pass. 

"  Oh,  a  regular  golden  business"!  shouted  Goose- 
foot,  as  he  hitched  along  with  his  crooked  leg 
behind  Padron  'Ntoni,  who  went  and  sat  down  on 
the  church -steps  with  Padron  Fortunato  Cipolla 
and  Locca  Menico's  brother,  who  were  taking  the 
air  there  in  the  cool  of  the  evening.  "  Uncla  Cru- 
cifix screamed  as  if  you  had  been  pulling  out  his 
quill-feathers ;  but  you  needn't  mind  that — he  has 
plenty  of  quills,  the  old  boy.  Oh,  we  had  a  time 
of  it ! — you  can  say  as  much  for  your  part,  too, 
can't  you,  Padron  'Ntoni  ?  But  for  Padron  'Ntoni, 
you  know,  I'd  throw  myself  off  the  cliffs  any  day. 
So  I  would,  before  God !  And  Uncle  Crucifix 
listens  to  me  because  he  knows  what  a  big  ladle 
means  —  a  big  ladle,  you  know,  that  stirs  a  big 
pot,  where  there's  more  than  two  hundred  scudi 
a  year  a-boiling !  Why,  old  Dumb-bell  wouldn't 
know  how  to  blow  his  nose  if  I  wasn't  by  to  show 
him !" 

La  Locca's  son,  hearing  them  talk  of  Uncle  Cru- 
cifix, who  was  really  his  uncle,  because  he  was  La 
Locca's  brother,  felt  his  heart  swelling  with  family 
affection. 

"We  are  relations,"  he  repeated.  "When  I  go 
there  to  work  by  the  day  he  gives  me  only  half- 
wages  and  no  wine,  because  we  are  relations." 

Old  Goosefoot  sneered : 

"  He  does  it  for  your  good,  so  that  you  shouldn't 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  15 

take  to  drinking,  and  that  he  may  have  more  money 
to  leave  you  when  he  dies/' 

Then  old  Goosefoot  went  on  amusing  himself  by 
speaking  ill  now  of  one  now  of  another,  as  it  hap- 
pened ;  but  so  good-humoredly,  without  malice,  that 
no  one  could  catch  him  in  anything  actionable. 

He  said  to  La  Locca's  son : 

"  Your  uncle  wants  to  nobble  your  Cousin  Vespa 
[wasp]  out  of  her  garden — trying  to  get  her  to  let 
him  have  it  for  half  what  it's  worth — making  her 
believe  he'll  marry  her.  But  if  La  Vespa  succeeds 
in  drawing  him  on,  you  may  go  whistle  for  your 
inheritance,  and  you'll  lose  the  wages  he  hasn't 
given  you  and  the  wine  you  didn't  drink." 

Then  they  began  to  dispute — for  Padron  'Ntoni 
insisted  upon  it  that,  "  after  all,  Uncle  Dumb-bell 
was  a  Christian,  and  hadn't  quite  thrown  his  brains 
into  the  gutter,  to  go  and  marry  his  brother's 
daughter." 

"What  has  Christian  to  do  with  it,  or  Turk 
either  ?"  growled  Goosefoot.  "  He's  mad,  you  mean  ! 
He's  as  rich  as  a  pig ;  what  does  he  want  of  that 
little  garden  of  Vespa's,  as  big  as  a  nose-rag?  And 
she  has  nothing  but  that." 

"  I  ought  to  know  how  big  it  is ;  it  lies  along  my 
vineyard,"  said  Padron  Cipolla,  puffing  himself  like 
a  turkey. 

"  You  call  that  a  vineyard  ?  Four  prickly-pears !" 
sneered  Goosefoot. 

"  Between  the  prickly-pears  the  vines  grow;  and 


1 6  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

if  Saint  Francis  will  send  us  a  good  shower  of  rain, 
you'll  see  if  I  don't  have  some  good  wine !  To-day 
the  sun  went  to  bed  loaded  with  rain,  or  with  wind." 

"  When  the  sun  goes  to  bed  heavy  one  must  look 
for  a  west  wind,"  said  Padron  'Ntoni. 

Goosefoot  couldn't  bear  Cipolla's  sententious  way 
of  talking,  "  thinking,  because  he  was  rich,  he  must 
know  everything,  and  could  make  the  poor  people 
swallow  whatever  nonsense  he  chose  to  talk.  One 
wants  rain,  and  one  wants  wind,"  he  wound  up. 
"  Padron  Cipolla  wants  rain  for  his  vines,  and  Pa- 
dron 'Ntoni  wants  a  wind  to  push  the  poop  of  the 
Provvidenza.  You  know  the  proverb,  *  Curly  is  the 
sea,  a  fresh  wind  there'll  be !'  To-night  the  stars 
are  shining,  at  midnight  the  wind  will  change. 
Don't  you  hear  the  ground-swell  ?" 

On  the  road  there  was  heard  the  sound  of  heavy 
carts,  slowly  passing. 

"  Night  or  day,  somebody's  always  going  about 
the  world,"  said  Cipolla  a  little  later  on. 

Now  that  they  could  no  longer  see  the  sea  or  the 
fields,  it  seemed  as  if  there  were  only  Trezza  in 
the  world,  and  everybody  wondered  where  the  carts 
could  be  going  at  that  hour. 

"  Before  midnight  the  Provvidenza  will  have 
rounded  the  Cape  of  the  Mills,  and  the  wind  won't 
trouble  her  any  longer." 

Padron  'Ntoni  thought  of  nothing  but  the  Prov- 
videnza, and  when  they  were  not  talking  of  her  he 
said  nothing,  and  sat  like  a  post  among  the  talkers. 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  17 

"  You  ought  to  go  across  the  street  to  the  drug- 
gist's, where  they  are  talking  politics.  You'd  make 
a  fine  figure  among  them.  Listen  how  they  shout !" 

"That's  Don  Giammaria,"  said  La  Locca's  son, 
"  disputing  with  Don  Franco." 

The  druggist  was  holding  a  conversation  at  the 
door  of  his  shop  with  the  vicar  and  two  or  three 
others.  As  he  was  a  cultured  person  he  got  the 
newspaper,  and  read  it,  too,  and  let  others  read  it ; 
and  he  had  the  History  of  the  French  Revolution, 
which  he  kept  under  the  glass  mortar,  because 
he  quarrelled  about  it  every  day  with  Don  Giam- 
maria,  the  vicar,  to  pass  the  time,  and  they  got 
positively  bilious  over  it,  but  they  couldn't  have 
lived  a  day  without  seeing  each  other.  On  Satur- 
days, when  the  paper  came,  Don  Franco  went  so 
far  as  to  burn  a  candle  for  half  an  hour,  or  even  for 
a  whole  hour,  at  the  risk  of  a  scolding  from  his  wife, 
so  as  to  explain  his  ideas  properly,  and  not  go  to 
bed  like  a  brute,  as  Uncle  Cipolla  and  old  Mala- 
voglia  did.  In  the  summer,  besides,  there  was  no 
need  of  a  candle,  for  they  could  stand  under  the 
lamp  at  the  door,  when  Mastro  Cirino  lighted  it, 
and  sometimes  Don  Michele,  the  brigadier  of  the 
customs  guard,  joined  them ;  and  Don  Silvestro, 
the  town-clerk,  too,  coming  back  from  his  vineyard^ 
stopped  for  a  moment.  Then  Don  Franco  would 
say,  rubbing  his  hands,  that  they  were  quite  a  par- 
liament, and  go  off  behind  his  counter,  passing  his 
fingers  through  his  long  beard  like  a  comb,  with  a 


1 8  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

shrewd  little  grin,  as  if  he  were  going  to  eat  some- 
body for  his  breakfast ;  and  would  let  slip  broken 
phrases  under  his  breath  full  of  hidden  meaning;  so 
that  it  was  plain  enough  that  he  knew  more  than 
all  the  world  put  together.  And  Don  Giammaria 
couldn't  bear  the  sight  of  him,  and  grew  yellow  with 
fury  and  spit  Latin  at  him.  Don  Silvestro,  for  his 
part,  was  greatly  amused  to  see  how  he  poisoned 
his  blood  "trying  to  straighten  out  a  dog's  legs," 
he  said,  "  without  a  chance  of  making  a  centime  by 
it;  he,  at  least,  didn't  lose  his  temper,  as  they  did." 
And  for  that  reason  they  said  in  the  place  that  he 
had  the  best  farms  in  Trezza — "  that  he  had  come 
to  a  barefooted  ragamuffin,"  added  old  Goosefoot. 
He  would  set  the  disputants  at  each  other  as  if 
they  had  been  dogs,  and  laughed  fit  to  split  his 
sides  with  shrill  cries  of  ah  !  ah  !  ah  !  like  a  cackling 
hen. 

Goosefoot  went  off  again  with  the  old  story  that 
if  Don  Silvestro  had  been  willing  to  stay  where  he 
belonged,  it  would  be  a  spade  he'd  be  wielding  now 
and  not  a  pen. 

"  Would  you  give  him  your  granddaughter  Mena  ?" 
said  Cipolla  at  last,  turning  to  Padron  'Ntoni. 

"  Each  to  his  own  business  —  leave  the  wolf  to 
look  after  the  sheep." 

Padron  Cipolla  kept  on  nodding  his  head  —  all 
the  more  that  there  had  been  some  talk  between 
him  and  Padron  'Ntoni  of  marrying  Mena  to  his 
son  Brasi ;  if  the  lupin  business  went  on  well  the 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  19 

dowry  would  be  paid  down  in  cash,  and  the  affair 
settled  immediately. 

"The  girl  as  she  has  been  trained,  and  the  tow 
as  it  has  been  spun,"  said  Padron  Malavoglia  at 
last ;  and  Padron  Cipolla  agreed  "  that  everybody 
in  the  place  knew  that  La  Longa  had  brought  up 
her  girl  beautifully,  that  anybody  who  passed  through 
the  alley  behind  the  house  by  the  medlar  at  the 
hour  at  which  they  were  talking  could  hear  the 
sound  of  Sant'Agata's  loom.  Cousin  Maruzza 
didn't  waste  her  oil  after  dark,  that  she  didn't,"  he 
said. 

La  Longa,  just  as  she  came  back  from  the  beach, 
sat  down  at  the  window  to  prepare  the  thread  for 
the  loom. 

"  Cousin  Mena  is  not  seen  but  heard,  and  she 
stays  at  the  loom  day  and  night,  like  Sant'Agata," 
said  the  neighbors. 

"That's  the  way  to  bring  up  girls,"  replied  Ma- 
ruzza, "  instead  of  letting  them  stay  gaping  out  the 
window.  '  Don't  go  after  the  girl  at  the  window,' 
says  the  proverb." 

"  Some  of  them,  though,  staring  out  of  window, 
manage  to  catch  the  foolish  fish  that  pass,"  said 
her  cousin  Anna  from  the  opposite  door. 

Cousin  Anna  (really  her  cousin  this  time,  not 
only  called  so  by  way  of  good-fellowship)  had  rea- 
son and  to  spare  for  this  speech ;  for  that  great 
hulking  fellow,  her  son  Rocco,  had  tacked  himself 
on  to  the  Mangiacarubbe's  petticoat-tail,  and  she 


20  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

was  always  leaning  out  of  the  window,  toasting  her 
face  in  the  sun. 

Gossip  Grazia  Goosefoot,  hearing  that  there  was 
a  conversation  going  on,  came  to  her  door  with  her 
apron  full  of  the  beans  she  was  shelling,  and  railed 
about  the  mice, who  had  made  her  "sack  like  a  sieve, 
eating  holes  all  over  it,  as  if  they  had  had  wits  like 
Christians ;"  so  the  talk  became  general  because 
those  accursed  little  brutes  had  done  Maruzza  all 
sorts  of  harm,  too.  Cousin  Anna  had  her  house 
full  of  them,  too,  since  she  had  lost  her  cat,  a  beast 
worth  its  weight  in  gold,  who  had  died  of  a  kick 
from  Uncle  Tino. 

"  The  gray  cats  are  the  best  to  catch  mice;  they'd 
go  after  them  into  a  needle's  eye." 

"  One  shouldn't  open  the  door  to  the  cat  by  night, 
for  an  old  woman  at  Aci  Sant'Antonio  got  killed 
that  way  by  thieves  who  stole  her  cat  three  days 
before,  and  then  brought  her  back  half  starved  to 
mew  at  the  door,  and  the  poor  woman  couldn't  bear 
to  hear  the  creature  out  in  the  street  at  that  hour, 
and  opened  the  door,  and  so  the  wretches  got  in. 
Nowadays  the  rascals  invent  all  sorts  of  tricks  to 
gain  their  ends;  and  at  Trezza  one  saw  faces  now 
that  nobody  had  ever  seen  on  the  coast;  coming, 
pretending  to  be  fishing,  and  catching  up  the  clothes 
that  were  out  to  dry  if  they  could  manage  it.  They 
had  stolen  a  new  sheet  from  poor  Nunziata  that 
way.  Poor  girl !  robbing  her,  who  worked  so  hard 
to  feed  those  little  brothers  that  her  father  left  on 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  21 

her  hands  when  he  went  off  seeking  his  fortune 
in  Alexandria,  in  Egypt.  Nunziata  was  like  what 
Cousin  Anna  herself  had  been  when  her  husband 
died  and  left  her  with  that  houseful  of  little  chil- 
dren, and  Rocco,  the  biggest  of  them,  no  higher 
than  her  knee.  Then,  after  all  the  trouble  of  rear- 
ing him,  great  lazy  fellow,  she  must  stand  by  and 
see  the  Mangiacarubbe  carry -him  off." 

Into  the  midst  of  this  gossiping  came  Venera  la 
Zuppidda,  wife  to  Bastiano,  the  calker ;  she  lived 
at  the  foot  of  the  lane,  and  always  appeared  un- 
expectedly, like  the  devil  at  the  litany,  who  came 
from  nobody  knew  where,  to  say  his  say  like  the 
rest. 

"  For  that  matter,"  she  muttered,"  your  son  Rocco 
never  helped  you  a  bit;  if  he  got  hold  of  a  soldo  he 
spent  it  at  the  tavern." 

La  Zuppidda  knew  everything  that  went  on  in  the 
place,  and  for  this  reason  they  said  she  went  about 
all  day  barefoot,  with  that  distaff  that  she  was  always 
holding  over  her  head  to  keep  the  thread  off  the 
graveL  Playing  the  spy,  she  was ;  the  spinning  was 
only  a  pretext.  "  She  always  told  gospel  truth — that 
was  a  habit  of  hers — and  people  who  didn't  like  to 
have  the  truth  told  about  them  accused  her  of  be- 
ing a  wicked  slanderer — one  of  those  whose  tongues 
dropped  gall.  '  Bitter  mouth  spits  gall,'  says  the 
proverb,  and  a  bitter  mouth  she  had  for  that  Bar- 
bara of  hers,  that  she  had  never  been  able  to  marry, 
so  naughty  and  rude  she  was,  and  with  all  that,  she 


22  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

would  like  to  give  her  Victor  Emmanuel's  son  for  a 
husband. 

"A  nice  one  she  is,  the  Mangiacarubbe,"  she  went 
on ;  "  a  brazen  -  faced  hussy,  that  has  called  the 
whole  village,  one  after  another,  under  her  window 
('  Choose  no  woman  at  the  window,'  says  the  prov- 
erb) ;  and  Vanni  Pizzuti  gave  her  the  figs  he  stole 
from  Mastro  Philip,  the  ortolano,  and  they  ate  them 
together  in  the  vineyard  under  the  almond-tree.  I 
saw  them  myself.  And  Peppi  (Joe)  Naso,  the  butch- 
er, after  he  began  to  be  jealous  of  Mariano  Cinghia- 
lenta,  the  carter,  used  to  throw  all  the  horns  of  the 
beasts  he  killed  behind  her  door,  so  that  they  said 
he  combed  his  head  under  the  Mangiacarubbe's 
window." 

That  good-natured  Cousin  Anna,  instead,  took  it 
easily.  "  Don't  you  know  Don  Giammaria  says  it 
is  a  mortal  sin  to  speak  evil  of  one's  neighbors  ?" 

"  Don  Giammaria  had  better  preach  to  his  own 
sister  Donna  Rosolina,"  replied  La  Zuppidda,  "  and 
not  let  her  go  playing  off  the  airs  of  a  young  girl  at 
Don  Silvestro  when  he  goes  past  the  house,  and 
with  Don  Michele,  the  brigadier ;  she's  dying  to  get 
married,  with  all  that  fat,  too,  and  at  her  age  !  She 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  herself." 

"  The  Lord's  will  be  done  !"  said  Cousin  Anna, 
in  conclusion.  "When  my  husband  died,  Rocco 
wasn't  taller  than  this  spindle,  and  his  sisters  were 
all  younger  than  he.  Perhaps  I've  lost  my  soul  for 
them.  Grief  hardens  the  heart,  they  say,  and  hard 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  23 

work  the  hands,  but  the  harder  they  are  the  better 
one  can  work  with  them.  My  daughters  will  do 
as  I  have  done,  and  while  there  are  stones  in  the 
washing -tank  we  shall  have  enough  to  live  on. 
Look  at  Nunziata — she's  as  wise  as  an  old  grand- 
dame  ;  and  she  works  for  those  babies  as  if  she 
had  borne  them  herself." 

"And  where  is  Nunziata  that  she  doesn't  come 
back  ?"  asked  La  Longa  of  a  group  of  ragged  little 
fellows  who  sat  whining  on  the  steps  of  the  tumble- 
down little  house  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way. 
When  they  heard  their  sister's  name  they  began  to 
howl  in  chorus. 

"  I  saw  her  go  down  to  the  beach  after  broom  to 
burn,"  said  Cousin  Anna,  "  and  your  son  Alessio 
was  with  her  too." 

The  children  stopped  howling  to  listen,  then  be- 
"gan  to  cry  again,  all  at  once;  and  the  biggest  one, 
perched  like  a  little  chicken  on  the  top  step,  said, 
gravely,  after  a  while,  "  I  don't  know  where  she  is." 

The  neighbors  all  came  out,  like  snails  in  a  show- 
er, and  all  along  the  little  street  was  heard  a  per- 
petual chatter  from  one  door  to  another.  Even 
Alfio  Mosca,  who  had  the  donkey-cart,  had  opened 
his  window,  and  a  great  smell  of  broom-smoke  came 
out  of  it.  Men  a  had  left  the  loom  and  come  out  on 
the  door-step. 

"Oh,  Sant'Agata!"  they  all  cried,  and  made  a 
great  fuss  over  her. 

"Aren't  you  thinking  of  marrying  your  Mena?" 


24  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

asked  La  Zuppidda,  in  a  low  tone,  of  Maruzza. 
"  She's  already  eighteen,  come  Easter-tide.  I  know 
her  age ;  she  was  born  in  the  year  of  the  earth- 
quake, like  my  Barbara.  Whoever  wants  my  Bar- 
bara must  first  please  me." 

At  this  moment  was  heard  a  sound  of  boughs 
scraping  on  the  road,  and  up  came  Luca  and  Nun- 
ziata,  who  couldn't  be  seen  under  the  big  bundle  of 
broom-bushes,  they  were  so  little. 

"  Oh,  Nunziata,"  called  out  the  neighbors,  "  were 
not  you  afraid  at  this  hour,  so  far  from  home  ?" 

"  I  was  with  them,"  said  Alessio. 

"  I  was  late  washing  with  Cousin  Anna,  and  then 
I  had  nothing  to  light  the  fire  with." 

The  little  girl  lighted  the  lamp,  and  began  to  get 
ready  for  supper,  the  children  trotting  up  and  down 
the  little  kitchen  after  her,  so  that  she  looked  like 
a  hen  with  her  chickens ;  Alessio  had  thrown  down 
his  fagot,  and  stood  gazing  out  of  the  door,  gravely, 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"  Oh,  Nunziata,"  called  out  Mena,  from  the  door- 
step, "  when  you've  lighted  the  fire  come  over  here 
for  a  little." 

Nunziata  left  Alessio  to  look  after  her  fire,  and 
ran  across  to  perch  herself  on  the  landing  beside 
Sant'Agata,  to  enjoy  a  little  rest,  hand  in  hand  with 
her  friend. 

"  Friend  Alfio  Mosca  is  cooking  his  broad  beans 
now,"  observed  Nunziata,  after  a  little. 

"  He  is  like  you,  poor  fellow  !    You  have  neither 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  25 

of  you  any  one  to  get  the  minestra  ready  by  the 
time  you  come  home  tired  in  the  evening." 

"  Yes,  it  is  true  that ;  and  he  knows  how  to  sew, 
and  to  wash  and  mend  his  clothes."  (Nunziata 
knew  everything  that  Alfio  did,  and  knew  every 
inch  of  her  neighbor's  house  as  if  it  had  been  the 
palm  of  her  hand.)  "  Now,"  she  said,  "he  has  gone 
to  get  wood,  now  he  is  cleaning  his  donkey,"  and 
she  watched  his  light  as  it  moved  about  the  house. 

Sant'Agata  laughed,  and  Nunziata  said  that  to 
be  precisely  like  a  woman  Alfio  only  wanted  a  pet- 
ticoat. 

"  So,"  concluded  Mena,  "  when  he  marries,  his 
wife  will  go  round  with  the  donkey-cart,  and  he'll 
stay  at  home  and  look  after  the  children." 

The  mothers,  grouped  about  the  street,  talked 
about  Alfio  Mosca  too,  and  how  La  Vespa  swore 
that  she  wouldn't  have  him  for  a  husband — so  said 
La  Zuppidda — "  because  the  Wasp  had  her  own 
nice  little  property,  and  wanted  to  marry  somebody 
who  owned  something  better  than  a  donkey-cart. 
She  has  been  casting  sheep's  eyes  at  her  uncle 
Dumb-bell,  the  little  rogue  !" 

The  girls  for  their  parts  defended  Alfio  against 
that  ugly  Wasp ;  and  Nunziata  felt  her  heart  swell 
with  contempt  at  the  way  they  scorned  Alfio,  only 
because  he  was  poor  and  alone  in  the  world,  and 
all  of  a  sudden  she  said  to  Mena: 

"If  I  was  grown  up  I'd  marry  him,  so  I  would, 
if  they'd  let  me." 


26  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

Mena  was  going  to  say  something  herself,  but 
she  changed  the  subject  suddenly. 

"Are  you  going  to  town  for  the  All  Souls'  festa?" 

"  No.     I  can't  leave  the  house  all  alone/' 

"  We  are  to  go  if  the  business  of  the  lupins  goes 
well;  grandpapa  says  so." 

Then  she  thought  a  minute  and  added : 

"  Cousin  Alfio,  he's  going  too,  to  sell  his  nuts  at 
the  fair." 

And  the  girls  sat  silent,  thinking  of  the  Feast  of 
All  Souls,  and  how  Alfio  was  going  there  to  sell  his 
nuts. 

"  Old  Uncle  Crucifix,  how  quietly  he  puts  Vespa 
in  his  pocket,"  began  Cousin  Anna,  all  over  again. 

"  That's  what  she  wants,"  cried  La  Zuppidda,  in 
her  abrupt  way,  "  to  be  pocketed.  La  Vespa  wants 
just  that,  and  nothing  else.  She's  always  in  his 
house  on  one  pretext  or  another,  slipping  in  like  a 
cat,  with  something  good  for  him  to  eat  or  drink, 
and  the  old  man  never  refuses  what  costs  him  noth- 
ing. She  fattens  him  up  like  a  pig  for  Christmas. 
I  tell  you  she  asks  nothing  better  than  to  get  into 
his  pocket." 

Every  one  had  something  to  say  about  Uncle 
Crucifix,  who  was  always  whining,  when,  instead,  he 
had  money  by  the  shovelful — for  La  Zuppidda,  one 
day  when  the  old  man  was  ill,  had  seen  a  chest  un- 
der his  bed  as  big  as  that  J 

La  Longa  felt  the  weight  of  the  forty  scudi  of 
debt  for  the  lupins,  and  changed  the  subject;  be- 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  27 

cause  "one  hears  also  in  the  dark,"  and  they  could 
hear  the  voice  of  Uncle  Crucifix  talking  with  Don 
Giammaria,  who  was  crossing  the  piazza  close  by, 
while  La  Zuppidda  broke  off  her  abuse  of  him  to 
wish  him  good-evening. 

Don  Silvestro  laughed  his  hen's  cackle,  and  this 
fashion  of  laughing  enraged  the  apothecary,  who 
had  never  had  any  patience  for  that  matter;  he  left 
that  to  such  asses  as  wouldn't  get  up  another  revo- 
lution. 

"  No,  you  never  had  any,"  shouted  Don  Giam- 
maria to  him  ;  "you  have  no  place  to  put  it."  And 
Don  Franco,  who  was  a  little  man,  went  into  a  fury, 
and  called  ugly  names  after  the  priest  which  could 
be  heard  all  across  the  piazza  in  the  dark.  Old 
Dumb-bell,  hard  as  a  stone,  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
and  took  care  to  repeat  "  that  all  that  was  nothing 
to  him;  he  attended  to  his  own  affairs."  "As  if  the 
affairs  of  the  Company  of  the  Happy  Death  were 
not  your  affairs,"  said  Don  Giammaria,  "  and  no- 
body paying  a  soldo  any  more.  When  it  is  a  ques- 
tion of  putting  their  hands  in  their  pockets  these 
people  are  a  lot  of  Protestants,  worse  than  that 
heathen  apothecary,  and  let  the  box  of  the  confra- 
ternity become  a  nest  for  mice.  It  was  positively 
beastly !" 

Don  Franco,  from  his  shop,  sneered  at  them  all 
at  the  top  of  his  voice,  trying  to  imitate  Don  Sil- 
vestro's  cackling  laugh,  which  was  enough  to  mad- 
den anybody.  But  everybody  knew  that  the  drug- 


28  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

gist  was  a  freemason,  and  Don  Giammaria  called 
out  to  him  from  the  piazza. : 

"  You'd  find  the  money  fast  enough  if  it  was  for 
schools  or  for  illuminations  !" 

The  apothecary  didn't  answer,  for  his  wife  just 
then  appeared  at  the  window ;  and  Uncle  Crucifix, 
when  he  was  far  enough  off  not  to  be  heard  by  Don 
Silvestro,  the  clerk,  who  gobbled  up  the  salary  for 
the  master  of  the  elementary  school : 

"It  is  nothing  to  me,"  he  repeated,  "but  in  my 
time  there  weren't  so  many  lamps  nor  so  many 
schools,  and  we  were  a  deal  better  off." 

"  You  never  were  at  school,  and  you  can  manage 
your  affairs  well  enough." 

"And  I  know  my  catechism,  too,"  said  Uncle 
Crucifix,  not  to  be  behindhand  in  politeness. 

In  the  heat  of  dispute  Don  Giammaria  lost  the 
pavement,  which  he  could  cross  with  his  eyes  shut, 
and  was  on  the  point  of  breaking  his  neck,  and  of 
letting  slip,  God  forgive  us  !  a  very  naughty  word. 

"  At  least  if  they'd  light  their  lamps  !" 

"  In  these  days  one  must  look  after  one's  steps," 
concluded  Uncle  Crucifix. 

Don  Giammaria  pulled  him  by  the  sleeve  of  his 
coat  to  tell  him  about  this  one  and  that  one — in  the 
middle  of  the  piazza,  in  the  dark — of  the  lamp- 
lighter who  stole  the  oil,  and  Don  Silvestro,  who 
winked  at  it,  and  of  the  Sindic  Giufa,  who  let 
himself  be  led  by  the  nose.  Dumb-bell  nodded 
his  head  in  assent,  mechanically,  though  they 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  29 

couldn't  see  each  other;  and  Don  Giammaria,  as 
he  passed  the  whole  village  in  review,  said  :  "  This 
one  is  a  thief ;  that  one  is  a  rascal ;  the  other  is  a 
Jacobin — so  you  hear  Goosefoot,  there,  talking  with 
Padron  Malavoglia  and  Padron  Cipolla  —  another 
heretic,  that  one !  A  demagogue  he  is,  with  that 
crooked  leg  of  his7';  and  when  he  went  limping 
across  the  piazza  he  moved  out  of  his  way  and 
watched  him  distrustfully,  trying  to  find  out  what 
he  was  after,  hitching  about  that  way.  "  He  has 
the  cloven  foot  like  the  devil,"  he  muttered. 

Uncle  Crucifix  shrugged  his  shoulders  again,  and 
repeated  "  that  he  was  an  honest  man,  that  he  didn't 
mix  himself  up  with  it."  "  Padron  Cipolla  was 
another  old  fool,  a  regular  balloon,  that  fellow7,  to 
let  himself  be  blindfolded  by  old  Goosefoot;  and 
Padron  'Ntoni,  too  —  he'll  get  a  fall  before  long; 
one  may  expect  anything  in  these  days.'7 

"  Honest  men  keep  to  their  own  business,"  re- 
peated Uncle  Crucifix. 

Instead,  Uncle  Tino,  sitting  up  like  a  president 
on  the  church  steps,  went  on  uttering  wise  sen- 
tences : 

"  Listen  to  me.  Before  the  Revolution  everything 
was  different ;  Now  the  fish  are  all  adulterated ;  I 
tell  you  I  know  it." 

"  No,  the  anchovies  feel  the  north-east  wind 
twenty-four  hours  before  it  comes,"  resumed  Pa- 
dron 'Ntoni,  "  it  has  always  been  so ;  the  anchovy 
is  a  cleverer  fish  than  the  tunny.  Now,  beyond  the 


30  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

Capo  del  Mulini,  they  sweep  the  sea  with  nets,  fine 
ones,  all  at  once." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,"  began  old  Fortunato. 
"  It  is  those  beastly  steamers  beating  the  water  with 
their  confounded  wheels.  What  will  you  have  ?  Of 
course  the  fish  are  frightened  and  don't  come  any 
more  ;  that's  what  it  is." 

The  son  of  La  Locca  sat  listening,  with  his  mouth 
open,  scratching  his  head. 

"Bravo!"  he  said.  "That  way  they  wouldn't 
find  any  fish  at  Messina  nor  at  Syracuse,  and  in- 
stead they  came  from  there  by  the  railway  by  quin- 
tals at  a  time." 

"  For  that  matter,  get  out  of  it  the  best  way  you 
can,"  cried  Cipolla,  angrily.  "  I  wash  my  hands  of 
it.  I  don't  care  a  fig  about  it.  I  have  my  farm  and 
my  vineyards  to  live  upon,  without  your  fish." 

Padron  'Ntoni,  with  his  nose  in  the  air,  observed, 
"  If  the  north-east  wind  doesn't  get  up  before  mid- 
night, the  Provvidenza  will  have  time  to  get  round 
the  Cape." 

From  the  campanile  overhead  came  the  slow 
strokes  of  the  deep  bell.  "  One  hour  after  sunset!" 
observed  Padron  Cipolla. 

Padron  'Ntoni  made  the  holy  sign,  and  replied, 
"  Peace  to  the  living  and  rest  to  the  dead." 

"  Don  Giammaria  has  fried  vermicelli  for  sup- 
per," observed  Goosefoot,  sniffing  towards  the  par- 
sonage windows. 

Don  Giammaria,  passing  by  on  his  way  home, 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  31 

saluted  Goosefoot  as  well  as  the  others,  for  in  such 
times  as  these  one  must  be  friends  with  those  ras- 
cals, and  Uncle  Tino,  whose  mouth  was  always  wa- 
tering, called  after  him : 

"Eh,  fried  vermicelli  to-night,  Don  Giammaria!" 

"  Do  you  hear  him  ?  Even  sniffing  at  what  I  have 
to  eat!"  muttered  Don  Giammaria  between  his  teeth; 
"they  spy  after  the  servants  of  God  to  count  even 
their  mouthfuls  —  everybody  hates  the  church  !" 
And  coming  face  to  face  with  Don  Michele,  the 
brigadier  of  the  coast-guard,  who  was  going  his 
rounds,  with  his  pistols  in  his  belt  and  his  trousers 
thrust  into  his  boots,  in  search  of  smugglers,  "  They 
don't  grudge  their  suppers  to  those  fellows." 

"  Those  fellows,  I  like  them,"  cried  Uncle  Cruci- 
fix. "  I  like  those  fellows  who  look  after  honest 
men's  property !" 

"  If  they'd  only  make  it  worth  his  while  he'd  be 
a  heretic  too,"  growled  Don  Giammaria,  knocking 
at  the  door  of  his  house.  "All  a  lot  of  thieves,"  he 
went  on  muttering,  with  the  knocker  in  his  hand, 
following  with  suspicious  eye  the  form  of  the  briga- 
dier, who  disappeared  in  the  darkness  towards  the 
tavern,  and  wondering  "  what  he  was  doing  at  the 
tavern,  protecting  honest  men's  goods  ?" 

All  the  same,  Daddy  Tino  knew  why  Don  Michele 
went  in  the  direction  of  the  tavern  to  protect  the 
interests  of  honest  people,  for  he  had  spent  whole 
nights  watching  for  him  behind  the  big  elm  to  find 
out ;  and  he  used  to  say : 


32  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

"  He  goes  to  talk  on  the  sly  with  Uncle  Santoro, 
Santuzza's  father.  Those  fellows  that  the  King 
feeds  must  all  be  spies,  and  know  all  about  every- 
body's business  in  Trezza  and  everywhere  else;  and 
old  Uncle  Santoro,  blind  as  he  is,  blinking  like  a 
bat  in  the  sunshine,  at  the  tavern  door,  knows  every- 
thing that  goes  on  in  the  place,  and  could  call  us 
by  name  one  after  another  only  by  the  footsteps." 

Maruzza,  hearing  the  bell  strike,  went  into  the 
house  quickly  to  spread  the  cloth  on  the  table ;  the 
gossips,  little  by  little,  had  disappeared,  and  as  the 
village  went  to  sleep  the  sea  became  audible  once 
more  at  the  foot  of  the  little  street,  and  every  now 
and  then  it  gave  a  great  sigh  like  a  sleepless  man 
turning  on  his  bed.  Only  down  by  the  tavern, 
where  the  red  light  shone,  the  noise  continued ; 
and  Rocco  Spatu,  who  made  festa  every  day  in  the 
week,  was  heard  shouting. 

"  Cousin  Rocco  is  in  good  spirits  to-night,"  said 
Alfio  Mosca  from  his  window,  which  looked  quite 
dark  and  deserted. 

"  Oh,  there  you  are,  Cousin  Alfio!"  replied  Mena, 
who  had  remained  on  the  landing  waiting  for  her 
grandfather. 

•"  Yes,  here  I  am,  Coz  Mena;  I'm  here  eating  my 
minestra,  because  when  I  see  you  all  at  table,  with 
your  light,  I  don't  lose  my  appetite  for  loneliness." 

"  Are  you  not  in  good  spirits  ?" 

"Ah,  one  wants  so  many  things  to  put  one  in 
good  spirits !" 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  33 

Mena  did  not  answer,  and  after  a  little  Cousin 
Alfio  added : 

"To-morrow  I'm  going  to  town  for  a  load  of 
salt." 

"Are  you  going  for  All  Souls  ?"  asked  Mena. 

"  Heaven  knows !  this  year  my  poor  little  nuts 
are  all  bad." 

"  Cousin  Alfio  goes  to  the  city  to  look  for  a  wife," 
said  Nunziata,  from  the  door  opposite. 

"Is  that  true?"  asked  Mena. 

"Eh,  Cousin  Mena,  if  I  had  to  look  for  one  I 
could  find  girls  to  my  mind  without  leaving  home." 

"  Look  at  those  stars,"  said  Mena,  after  a  silence. 
"  They  say  they  are  the  souls  loosed  from  Purgatory 
going  into  Paradise." 

"  Listen,"  said  Alfio,  after  having  also  taken  a 
look  at  the  stars,  "you,  who  are  Sant'Agata,  if  you 
dream  of  a  good  number  in  the  lottery,  tell  it  to  me, 
and  I'll  pawn  my  shirt  to  put  in  for  it,  and  then,  you 
know,  I  can  begin  to  think  about  taking  a  wife." 

"Good-night!"  said  Mena. 

The  stars  twinkled  faster  than  ever,  the  "  three 
kings "  shone  out  over  the  Fariglione,  with  their 
arms  out  obliquely  like  Saint  Andrew. 

The  sea  moved  at  the  foot  of  the  street,  softly, 
softly,  and  at  long  intervals  was  heard  the  rumbling 
of  some  cart  passing  in  the  dark,  grinding  on  the 
stones,  and  going  out  into  the  wide  world — so  wide, 
so  wide,  that  if  one  could  walk  forever  one  couldn't 
get  to  the  end  of  it;  and  there  were  people  going 
3 


34  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

up  and  down  in  this  wide  world  that  knew  nothing 
of  Cousin  Alfio,  nor  of  the  Provvidenza  out  at  sea, 
nor  of  the  Festa  of  All  Souls. 

So  thought  Mena,  waiting  on  the  landing  for 
grandpapa. 

Grandpapa  himself  came  out  once  or  twice  on 
the  landing,  before  closing  the  door,  looking  at  the 
stars,  which  twinkled  more  than  they  need  have 
done,  and  then  muttered,  "Ugly  Sea!"  Rocco 
Spatu  howled  a  tipsy  song  under  the  red  light  at 
the  tavern.  "A  careless  heart  can  always  sing," 
concluded  Padron  'Ntoni. 


III. 

AFTER  midnight  the  wind  began  to  howl  as  if  all 
the  cats  in  the  place  had  been  on  the  roof,  and  to 
shake  the  shutters.  The  sea  roared  round  the  Fa- 
riglione  as  if  all  the  bulls  of  the  Fair  of  Saint  Alfio 
had  been  there,  and  the  day  opened  as  black  as  the 
soul  of  Judas.  In  short,  an  ugly  September  Sunday 
dawned — a  Sunday  in  false  September  which  lets 
loose  a  tempest  on  one  between  the  cup  and  the 
lip,  like  a  shot  from  behind  a  prickly-pear.  The 
village  boats  were  all  drawn  up  on  the  beach,  and 
well  fastened  to  the  great  stones  under  the  washing- 
tank;  so  the  boys  amused  themselves  by  hissing 
and  howling  whenever  there  passed  by  some  lonely 
sail  far  out  at  sea,  tossed  amid  mist  and  foam, 


THE    HOUSE   BY   THE   MEDLAR-TREE.  35 

dancing  up  and  down  as  if  chased  by  the  devil ; 
the  women,  instead,  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  as 
if  they  could  see  with  their  eyes  the  poor  fellows 
who  were  on  board. 

Maruzza  la  Longa  was  silent,  as  behooved  her; 
but  she  could  not  stand  still  a  minute,  and  went  up 
and  down  and  in  and  out  without  stopping,  like  a 
hen  that  is  going  to  lay  an  egg.  The  men  were  at 
the  tavern,  or  in  Pizzuti's  shop,  or  under  the  butch- 
er's shed,  watching  the  rain,  sniffing  the  air  with 
their  heads  up.  On  the  shore  there  was  only  Pa- 
dron  'Ntoni,  looking  out  for  that  load  of  lupins  and 
his  son  Bastianazzo  and  the  Provvidenza,  all  out  at 
sea  there ;  and  there  was  La  Locca's  son  too,  who 
had  nothing  to  lose,  only  his  brother  Menico  was 
out  at  sea  with  Bastianazzo  in  the  Provvidenza, 
with  the  lupins.  Padron  Fortunato  Cipolla,  getting 
shaved  in  Pizzuti's  shop,  said  that  he  wouldn't  give 
two  baiocchi  for  Bastianazzo  and  La  Locca's  Me- 
nico with  the  Provvidenza  and  the  load  of  lupins. 

"Now  everybody  wants  to  be  a  merchant  and  to 
get  rich,"  said  he,  shrugging  his  shoulders  ;  "  and 
then  when  the  steed  is  stolen  they  shut  the  stable 
door." 

In  Santuzza's  bar-room  there  was  a  crowd — that 
big  drunken  Rocco  Spatu  shouting  and  spitting 
enough  for  a  dozen;  Daddy  Tino  Goosefoot,  Mastro 
Cola  Zuppiddu,  Uncle  Mangiacarubbe ;  Don  Mi- 
chele,  the  brigadier  of  the  coast-guard,  with  his  big 
boots  and  his  pistols,  as  if  he  were  going  to  look 


36  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

for  smugglers  in  this  sort  of  weather ;  and  Mastro 
Mariano  Cinghialenta.  That  great  big  elephant  of 
a  man,  Mastro  Cola  Zuppiddu,  went  about  giving 
people  thumps  in  fun,  heavy  enough  to  knock  down 
an  ox,  as  if  he  had  his  calker's  mallet  in  his  hand 
all  the  time,  and  then  Uncle  Cinghialenta,  to  show 
that  he  was  a  carrier,  and  a  courageous  man  who 
knew  the  world,  turned  round  upon  him,  swearing 
and  blaspheming. 

Uncle  Santoro,  curled  all  up  in  the  corner  of  the 
little  porch,  waited  with  out-stretched  hand  until 
some  one  should  pass  that  he  might  ask  for  alms. 

"  Between  the  two,  father  and  daughter,  they 
must  make  a  good  sum  on  such  a  day  as  this,"  said 
Zuppiddu,  "  when  everybody  comes  to  the  tavern." 

"  Bastianazzo  Malavoglia  is  worse  off  than  he  is 
at  this  moment,"  said  Goosefoot.  "  Mastro  Cirino 
may  ring  the  bell  as  much  as  he  likes,  to-day  the 
Malavoglia  won't  go  to  church  —  they  are  angry 
with  our  Lord  —  because  of  that  load  of  lupins 
they've  got  out  at  sea." 

The  wind  swept  about  the  petticoats  and  the  dry 
leaves,  so  that  Vanni  Pizzuti,  with  the  razor  in  his 
hand,  held  on  to  the  nose  of  the  man  he  was  shav- 
ing, and  looked  out  over  his  shoulder  to  see  what 
was  going  on ;  and  when  he  had  finished,  stood 
with  hand  on  hip  in  the  door-way,  with  his  curly 
hair  shining  like  silk ;  and  the  druggist  stood  at  his 
shop  door,  under  that  big  ugly  hat  of  his  that  look- 
ed as  if  he  had  an  umbrella  on  his  head,  pretending 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  37 

to  have  high  words  with  Don  Silvestro,  the  town- 
clerk,  because  his  wife  didn't  force  him  to  go  to 
church  in  spite  of  himself,  and  laughed  under  his 
beard  at  the  joke,  winking  at  the  boys  who  were 
tumbling  in  the  gutters. 

"  To-day  "  Daddy  Goosefoot  went  about  saying, 
"  Padron  'Ntoni  is  a  Protestant,  like  Don  Franco 
the  apothecary." 

"  If  I  see  you  looking  after  that  old  wretch  Don 
Silvestro,  I'll  box  your  ears  right  here  where  we 
are,"  shouted  La  Zuppidda,  crossing  the  piazza,  to 
her  girl.  "  That  one  I  don't  like." 

La  Santuzza,  at  the  last  stroke  of  the  bell,  left 
her  father  to  take  care  of  the  tavern,  and  went  into 
church,  with  her  customers  behind  her.  Uncle  San- 
toro,  poor  old  fellow,  was  blind,  and  didn't  go  to 
the  mass,  but  he  didn't  lose  his  time  at  the  tavern, 
for  though  he  couldn't  see  who  went  to  the  bar,  he 
knew  them  all  by  the  step  as  one  or  another  went 
to  take  a  drink. 

"The  devils  are  out  on  the  air,"  said  Santuzza, 
as  she  crossed  herself  with  the  holy  water.  "A  day 
to  commit  a  mortal  sin  !" 

Close  by,  La  Zuppidda  muttered  Ave  Marias 
mechanically,  sitting  on  her  heels,  shooting  sharp 
glances  hither  and  thither,  as  if  she  were  on  evil 
terms  with  the  whole  village,  whispering  to  whoever 
would  listen  to  her :  "  There's  Maruzza  la  Longa 
doesn't  come  to  church,  and  yet  her  husband  is  out 
at  sea  in  this  horrid  weather !  There's  no  need 


38      THE  HOUSE  BY  THE  MEDLAR-TREE. 

to  wonder  why  the  Lord  sends  judgments  on  us. 
There's  even  Menico's  mother  comes  to  church, 
though  she  doesn't  do  anything  there  but  watch  the 
flies." 

"  One  must  pray  also  for  sinners,"  said  Santuzza; 
"  that  is  what  good  people  are  for." 

Uncle  Crucifix  was  kneeling  at  the  foot  of  the 
altar  of  the  Sorrowing  Mother  of  God,  with  a  very 
big  rosary  in  his  hand,  and  intoned  his  prayers 
with  a  nasal  twang  which  would  have  touched  the 
heart  of  Satan  himself.  Between  one  Ave  Maria  and 
another  he  talked  of  the  affair  of  the  lupins,  and  of 
the  Provvidenza,  which  was  out  at  sea,  and  of  La 
Longa,  who  would  be  left  with  five  children. 

"  In  these  days,"  said  Padron  Cipolla,  shrugging 
his  shoulders,  "no  one  is  content  with  his  own 
estate ;  everybody  wants  the  moon  and  stars  for 
himself." 

"  The  fact  is,"  concluded  Daddy  Zuppiddu,  "that 
this  will  be  a  black  day  for  the  Malavoglia." 

"  For  my  part,"  added  Goosefoot,  "  I  shouldn't 
care  to  be  in  Cousin  Bastianazzo's  shirt." 

The  evening  came  on  chill  and  sad ;  now  and 
then  there  came  a  blast  of  north  wind,  bringing  a 
shower  of  fine  cold  rain ;  it  was  one  of  those  even- 
ings when,  if  the  bark  lies  high  and  safe,  with  her 
belly  in  the  sand,  one  enjoys  watching  the  simmer- 
ing pot,  with  the  baby  between  one's  knees,  and 
listening  to  the  housewife  trotting  to  and  fro  be- 
hind one's  back.  The  lazy  ones  preferred  going 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  39 

to  the  tavern  to  enjoy  the  Sunday,  which  seemed 
likely  to  last  over  Monday  as  well ;  and  the  cup- 
boards shone  in  the  firelight  until  even  Uncle 
Santoro,  sitting  out  there  with  his  extended  hand, 
moved  his  chair  to  warm  his  back  a  little. 

"  He's  better  off  than  poor  old  Bastianazzo  just 
now,"  said  Rocco  Spatu,  lighting  his  pipe  at  the 
door. 

And  without  further  reflection  he  put  his  hand 
in  his  pocket,  and  permitted  himself  to  give  two 
centimes  in  alms. 

"  You  are  throwing  your  alms  away,  thanking 
God  for  being  in  safety  from  the  storm  ;  there's  no 
danger  of  your  dying  like  Bastianazzo." 

Everybody  laughed  at  the  joke,  and  then  they  all 
stood  looking  out  at  the  sea,  that  was  as  black  as 
the  wet  rocks. 

Padron  'Ntoni  had  been  going  about  all  day,  as 
if  he  had  been  bitten  by  the  tarantula,  and  the 
apothecary  asked  him  if  he  wanted  a  tonic,  and 
then  he  said,  "  Fine  providence  this,  eh,  Padron 
?Ntoni?"  But  he  was  a  Protestant  and  a  Jew;  all 
the  world  knew  that. 

La  Locca's  son,  who  was  out  there  with  his 
hands  in  his  empty  pockets,  began  : 

"Uncle  Crucifix  is  gone  with  old  Goosefoot  to 
get  Padron  'Ntoni  to  swear  before  witnesses  that 
he  took  the  cargo  of  lupins  on  credit." 

At  dusk  Maruzza,  with  her  little  ones,  went  out 
on  the  cliffs  to  watch  the  sea,  which  from  that  point 


40  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

could  be  seen  quite  well,  and  hearing  the  moaning 
waves,  she  felt  faint  and  sick,  but  said  nothing. 
The  little  girl  cried,  and  these  poor  things,  forgot- 
ten up  there  on  the  rocks,  seemed  like  souls  in 
Purgatory.  The  little  one's  cries  made  the  moth- 
er quite  sick  —  it  seemed  like  an  evil  omen;  she 
couldn't  think  what  to  do  to  keep  the  child  quiet, 
and  she  sang  to  her  song  after  song,  with  a  trem- 
bling voice  loaded  with  tears. 

The  men,  on  their  way  back  from  the  tavern, 
with  pot  of  oil  or  flask  of  wine,  stopped  to  ex- 
change a  few  words  with  La  Longa,  as  if  nothing 
had  happened ;  and  some  of  Bastianazzo's  special 
friends — Cipolla,  for  example,  or  Mangiacarubbe — 
walking  out  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  and  giving  a 
look  out  to  see  in  what  sort  of  a  temper  the  old 
growler  was  going  to  sleep  in,  went  up  to  Cousin 
Maruzza,  asking  about  her  husband,  and  staying  a 
few  minutes  to  keep  her  company,  pipe  in  mouth, 
or  talking  softly  among  themselves.  The  poor  lit- 
tle woman,  frightened  by  these  unusual  attentions, 
looked  at  them  with  sad,  scared  eyes,  and  held  her 
baby  tight  in  her  arms,  as  if  they  had  tried  to  steal 
it  from  her.  At  last  the  hardest,  or  the  most  com- 
passionate of  them,  took  her  by  the  arm  and  led 
her  home.  She  let  herself  be  led,  only  saying  over 
and  over  again :  "  O  Blessed  Virgin !  O  Blessed 
Virgin  Mary !"  The  children  clung  to  her  skirts, 
as  if  they  had  been  afraid  somebody  was  going  to 
steal  something  from  them  too.  When  they  passed 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  41 

before  the  tavern  all  the  customers  stopped  talking, 
and  came  to  the  door  in  a  cloud  of  smoke,  gazing 
at  her  as  if  she  were  already  a  curiosity. 

"Requiem  ceternam"  mumbled  old  Santoro,  under 
his  breath :  "  that  poor  Bastianazzo  always  gave  me 
something  when  his  father  let  him  have  a  soldo  to 
spend  for  himself." 

The  poor  little  thing,  who  did  not  even  know  she 
was  a  widow,  went  on  crying:  "  O  Blessed  Virgin  ! 
O  Blessed  Virgin  !  Q  Virgin  Mary !" 

Before  the  steps  of  her  house  the  neighbors  were 
waiting  for  her,  talking  among  themselves  in  a  low 
voice.  When  they  saw  her  coming,  Mammy  Goose- 
foot  and  her  cousin  Anna  came  towards  her  silent- 
ly, with  folded  hands.  Then  she  wound  her  hands 
wildly  in  her  hair,  and  with  a  distracted  screech 
rushed  to  hide  herself  in  the  house. 

"  What  a  misfortune !"  they  said  among  them- 
selves in  the  street.  "And  the  boat  was  loaded — 
forty  scudi  worth  of  lupins  !" 


IV. 

THE  worst  part  of  it  was  that  the  lupins  had 
been  bought  on  credit,  and  Uncle  Crucifix  was  not 
content  with  "fair  words  and  rotten  apples."  He 
was  called  Dumb-bell  because  he  was  deaf  on  one 
side,  and  turned  that  side  when  people  wanted  to 
pay  him  with  talk,  saying,  "the  payment  can  be 


42  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

arranged."  He  lived  by  lending  to  his  friends, 
having  no  other  trade,  and  for  this  reason  he  stood 
about  all  day  in  the  piazza,  or  with  his  back  to  the 
wall  of  the  church,  with  his  hands  in  the  pockets 
of  that  ragged  old  jacket  that  nobody  would  have 
given  him  a  soldo  for ;  but  he  had  as  much  money 
as  you  wanted,  and  if  any  one  wanted  ten  francs 
he  was  ready  to  lend  them  right  off,  on  pledge,  of 
course  —  "He  who  lends  money  without  security 
loses  his  friends,  his  goods,  and  his  wits" — with 
the  bargain  that  they  should  be  paid  back  on  Sun- 
day, in  silver,  with  the  account  signed,  and  a  carlino 
more  for  interest,  as  was  but  right,  for,  in  affairs, 
there's  no  friendship  that  counts.  He  also  bought 
a  whole  cargo  of  fish  in  the  lump,  with  discount,  if 
the  poor  fellow  who  had  taken  the  fish  wanted  his 
money  down,  but  they  must  be  weighed  with  his 
scales,  that  were  as  false  as  Judas's,  so  they  said. 
To  be  sure,  such  fellows  were  never  contented,  and 
had  one  arm  long  and  the  other  short,  like  Saint 
Francesco :  and  he  would  advance  the  money  for 
the  port  taxes  if  they  wanted  it,  and  only  took  the 
money  beforehand,  and  half  a  pound  of  bread  per 
head  and  a  little  quarter  flask  of  wine,  and  wanted 
no  more,  for  he  was  a  Christian,  and  one  of  those 
who  knew  that  for  what  one  does  in  this  world  one 
must  answer  to  God.  In  short,  he  was  a  real  Prov- 
idence for  all  who  were  in  tight  places,  and  had  in- 
vented a  hundred  ways  of  being  useful  to  his  neigh- 
bors ;  and  without  being  a  seaman,  he  had  boats 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  43 

and  tackle  and  everything  for  such  as  hadn't  them, 
and  lent  them,  contenting  himself  with  a  third  of 
the  fish,  and  something  for  the  boat — that  counted 
as  much  as  the  wages  of  a  man — and  something 
more  for  the  tackle,  for  he  lent  the  tackle  too;  and 
the  end  was  that  the  boat  ate  up  all  the  profits,  so 
that  they  called  it  the  devil's  boat.  And  when 
they  asked  him  why  he  didn't  go  to  sea,  too,  and 
risk  his  own  skin  instead  of  swallowing  every- 
thing at  other  people's  expense,  he  would  say, 
"  Bravo !  and  if  an  accident  happened,  Lord  avert 
it !  and  if  I  lost  my  life  who  would  attend  to  my 
business  ?"  He  did  attend  to  his  business,  and 
would  have  hired  out  his  very  shirt;  but  he  wanted 
to  be  paid  without  so  much  talk,  and  there  was  no 
use  arguing  with  him  because  he  was  deaf,  and, 
more  than  that,  wasn't  quite  right  in  his  head,  and 
couldn't  say  anything  but  "  Bargaining's  no  cheat- 
ing ;"  or,  "  The  honest  man  is  known  when  pay-day 
comes." 

Now  his  enemies  were  laughing  in  their  sleeves 
at  him,  on  account  of  those  blessed  lupins  that  the 
devil  had  swallowed;  and  he  must  say  a  De pro- 
fundis  for  Bastianazzo  too,  when  the  funeral  cere- 
mony took  place,  along  with  the  other  Brothers  of 
the  Happy  Death,  with  the  bag  over  his  head. 

The  windows  of  the  little  church  flashed  in  the 
sunshine,  and  the  sea  was  smooth  and  still,  so  that 
it  no  longer  seemed  the  same  that  had  robbed  La 
Longa  of  her  husband ;  wherefore  the  brothers  were 


44  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

rather  in  a  hurry,  wanting  to  get  away  each  to  his 
own  work,  now  that  the  weather  had  cleared  up. 
This  time  the  Malavoglia  were  all  there  on  their 
knees  before  the  bier,  washing  the  pavement  with 
their  tears,  as  if  the  dead  man  had  been  really 
there,  inside  those  four  boards,  with  the  lupins 
round  his  neck,  that  Uncle  Crucifix  had  given  him 
on  credit,  because  he  had  always  known  Padron 
'Ntoni  for  an  honest  man ;  but  if  they  meant  to 
cheat  him  out  of  his  goods  on  the  pretext  that  Ba- 
stianazzo  was  drowned,  they  might  as  well  cheat 
our  Lord  Christ.  By  the  holy  devil  himself,  he 
would  put  Padron  'Ntoni  in  the  hulks  for  it ! — 
there  was  law,  even  at  Trezza. 

Meanwhile  Don  Giammaria  flung  two  or  three 
asperges  of  holy --water  on  the  bier,  and  Mastro 
Cirino  went  round  with  an  extinguisher  putting  out 
the  candles.  The  brothers  strode  over  the  benches 
with  arms  over  their  heads,  pulling  off  their  habits; 
and  Uncle  Crucifix  went  and  gave  a  pinch  of  snuff 
to  Padron  'Ntoni  by  the  way  of  consolation  ;  for, 
after  all,  when  one  is  an  honest  man  one  leaves  a 
good  name  behind  one  and  wins  Paradise,  and  this 
is  what  he  had  said  to  those  who  asked  him  about 
his  lupins :  "  With  the  Malavoglia  I'm  safe,  for  they 
are  honest  people,  and  don't  mean  to  leave  poor 
Bastianazzo  in  the  claws  of  the  devil.  Padron 
'Ntoni  might  see  for  himself  that  everything  had 
been  done  without  skimping  in  honor  of  the  dead 
—so  much  for  the  mass,  so  much  for  the  tapers,  so 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  45 

much  for  the  requiem — he  counted  it  all  off  on  his 
big  fingers  in  their  white  cotton  gloves;  and  the 
children  looked  with  open  mouths  at  all  these 
things  which  cost  so  much  and  were  for  papa — the 
catafalque,  the  tapers,  the  paper-flowers ;  and  the 
baby,  seeing  the  lights,  and  hearing  the  organ,  be- 
gan to  laugh  and  to  dance. 

The  house  by  the  medlar  was  full  of  people. 
"  Sad  is  the  house  where  there  is  the  l  visit'  for  the 
husband."  Everybody  passing  and  seeing  the  poor 
little  orphaned  Malavoglia  at  the  door,  with  dirty 
faces,  and  hands  in  their  pockets,  shook  their  heads, 
saying : 

"  Poor  Cousin  Maruzza,  now  her  hard  times  are 
beginning." 

The  neighbors  brought  things,  as  the  custom  is — 
macaroni,  eggs,  wine,  all  the  gifts  of  God  that  one 
could  only  finish  if  one  was  really  happy  —  and 
Cousin  Alfio  Mosca  came  with  a  chicken  in  his 
hands,  "Take  this,  Cousin  Mena,"  he  said,  "  I  only 
wish  I'd  been  in  your  father's  place — I  swear  it — 
at  least  I  should  not  have  been  missed,  and  there 
would  have  been  none  to  mourn  for  me." 

Mena,  leaning  against  the  kitchen  door,  with  her 
apron  over  her  face,  felt  her  heart  beat  as  if  it 
would  fly  out  of  her  breast,  like  that  of  the  poor 
frightened  bird  she  held  in  her  hand.  The  dowry 
of  Sant'Agata  had  gone  down,  down  in  the  Provvi- 
denza,  and  the  people  who  came  to  make  the  visit 
of  condolence  in  the  house  by  the  medlar  looked 


46  THE    HOUSE   BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

round  at  the  things,  as  if  they  saw  Uncle  Crucifix's 
claws  already  grasping  at  them ;  some  sat  perched 
on  chairs,  and  went  off,  without  having  spoken  a 
word,  like  regular  stockfish  as  they  were ;  but  who- 
ever had  a  tongue  in  their  heads  tried  to  keep  up 
some  sort  of  conversation  to  drive  away  melan- 
choly, and  to  rouse  those  poor  Malavoglia,  who 
went  on  crying  all  day  long,  like  four  fountains. 
Uncle  Cipolla  related  how  there  was  a  rise  of  a 
franc  to  a  barrel  in  the  price  of  anchovies,  which 
might  interest  Padron  'Ntoni  if  he  still  had  any  an- 
chovies on  hand;  he  himself  had  reserved  a  hun- 
dred barrels,  which  now  came  in  very  well ;  and 
he  talked  of  poor  Cousin  Bastianazzo,  too,  rest  his 
soul ;  how  no  one  could  have  expected  it — a  man 
like  that,  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  positively  burst- 
ing with  health  and  strength,  poor  fellow  ! 

There  was  the  sindaco,  too,  Master  Croce  Calta 
"  Silk-worm  " — called  also  Giufa — with  Don  Silves- 
tro,  the  town-clerk,  and  he  stood  sniffing  with  nose 
in  the  air,  so  that  people  said  he  was  waiting  for 
the  wind  to  see  what  way  to  turn — looking  now  at 
one  who  was  speaking,  now  at  another,  as  if  he 
were  watching  the  leaves  in  the  wind,  in  real  ear- 
nest, and  if  he  spoke  he  mumbled  so  no  one  could 
hear  him,  and  if  Don  Silvestro  laughed  he  laughed 
too. 

"  No  funeral  without  laughter,  no  marriage  with- 
out tears."  The  druggist's  wife  twisted  about  on 
her  chair  with  disgust  at  the  trifling  conversation, 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  47 

sitting  with  her  hands  in  her  lap  and  a  long  face, 
as  is  the  custom  in  town  under  such  circumstances, 
so  that  people  became  dumb  at  the  sight  of  her, 
as  if  the  corpse  itself  had  been  sitting  there,  and 
for  this  reason  she  was  called  the  Lady.  Don  Sil- 
vestro  strutted  about  among  the  women,  and  start- 
ed forward  every  minute  to  offer  a  chair  to  some 
new-comer,  that  he  might  hear  his  new  boots  creak. 
"They  ought  to  be  burned  alive,  those  tax-gather- 
ers!" muttered  La  Zuppidda,  yellow  as  a  lemon; 
and  she  said  it  aloud,  too,  right  in  the  face  of  Don 
Silvestro,  just  as  if  he  had  been  one  of  the  tax- 
gatherers.  She  knew  very  well  what  they  were 
after,  these  bookworms,  with  their  shiny  boots  with- 
out stockings ;  they  were  always  trying  to  slip  into 
people's  houses,  to  carry  off  the  dowry  and  the 
daughters.  'Tis  not  you  I  want,  my  dear,  'tis  your 
money.  For  that  she  had  left  her  daughter  Bar- 
bara at  home.  "  Those  faces  I  don't  like." 

"  It's  a  beastly  shame !"  cried  Donna  Rosolina, 
the  priest's  sister,  red  as  a  turkey,  fanning  herself 
with  her  handkerchief;  and  she  railed  at  Garibaldi, 
who  had  brought  in  the  taxes;  and  nowadays  no- 
body could  live  and  nobody  got  married  any  more. 

"As  if  that  mattered  to  Donna  Rosolina  now," 
murmured  Goosefoot. 

Donna  Rosolina  meanwhile  went  on  talking  to 
Don  Silvestro  of  the  lot  of  work  she  had  on  her 
hands :  thirty  yards  of  warp  on  the  loom,  the  beans 
to  dry  for  winter,  all  the  tomato -preserve  to  be 


48  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

made.  She  had  a  secret  for  making  it,  so  that  it 
kept  fresh  all  winter ;  she  always  got  the  spices 
from  town  on  purpose,  and  used  the  best  quality  of 
salt.  A  house  without  a  woman  never  goes  on 
well,  but  the  woman  must  have  brains,  and  know 
how  to  use  her  hands  as  she  did,  not  one  of  those 
little  geese  that  think  of  nothing  but  brushing  their 
hair  before  the  glass.  "  Long  hair  little  wit,"  says 
the  proverb,  specially  when  the  husband  goes  under 
the  water  like  poor  Bastianazzo,  rest  his  soul ! 

"  Blessed  that  he  is  !"  sighed  Santuzza,  "he  died 
on  a  fortunate  day,  a  day  blessed  by  the  Church 
— the  eve  of  Our  Lady  of  Sorrows — and  now  he's 
praying  for  us  sinners,  like  the  angels  and  the 
saints.  *  Whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth.' 
He  was  a  good  man,  one  of  those  who  mind  their 
own  business,  and  don't  go  about  speaking  ill  of 
their  neighbors,  as  so  many  do,  falling  into  mortal 
sin." 

Maruzza,  sitting  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  pale  and 
limp  as  a  wet  rag,  looking  like  Our  Lady  of  Sor- 
rows herself,  began  to  cry  louder  than  ever  at  this; 
and  Padron  'Ntoni,  bowed  and  stooping,  looking  a 
hundred  years  older  than  he  did  three  days  before, 
went  on  looking  and  looking  at  her,  shaking  his 
head,  not  knowing  what  to  say,  with  that  big  thorn 
Bastianazzo  sticking  in  his  breast  as  if  a  shark  had 
been  gnawing  at  him. 

"  Santuzza's  lips  drop  nothing  but  honey,"  ob- 
served Cousin  Grace  Goosefoot. 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  49 

"To  be  a  good  tavern-keeper,"  said  La  Zup- 
pidda,  "one  must  be  like  that;  who  doesn't  know 
his  trade  must  shut  his  shop,  and  who  can't  swim 
must  be  drowned." 

"  They're  going  to  put  a  tax  on  salt,"  said  Uncle 
Mangiacarubbe.  "  Don  Franco  saw  it  in  the  paper 
in  print.  Then  they  can't  salt  the  anchovies  any 
more,  and  we  may  just  use  our  boats  for  firewood." 

Master  Turi,  the  calker,  was  lifting  up  his  fist 
and  his  voice,  "  Blessed  Lord — "  he  began,  but 
caught  sight  of  his  wife  and  stopped  short. 

"With  the  dear  times  that  are  coming,"  added 
Padron  Cipolla,  "this  year,  when  it  hasn't  rained 
since  Saint  Clare,  and  if  it  wasn't  for  this  last  storm 
when  the  Provvidenza  was  lost,  that  was  a  real  bless- 
ing, the  famine  this  year  would  be  solid  enough  to 
cut  with  a  knife." 

Each  one  talked  of  his  own  trouble  to  comfort 
the  Malavoglia  and  show  them  that  they  were  not 
the  only  ones  that  had  trouble.  "  Troubles  old  and 
new,  some  have  many  and  some  have  few ;"  and 
such  as  stood  outside  in  the  garden  looked  up  at 
the  sky  to  see  if  there  was  any  chance  of  more  rain 
— that  was  needed  more  than  bread  was.  Padron 
Cipolla  knew  why  it  didn't  rain  any  longer  as  it 
used  to  do,  "  It  rained  no  longer  on  account  of  that 
cursed  telegraph-wire  that  drew  all  the  rain  to  itself 
and  carried  it  off."  Daddy  Tino  and  Uncle  Man- 
giacarubbe at  this  stood  staring  with  open  mouths, 
for  there  was  precisely  on  the  road  to  Trezza  one 
4 


50  THE    HOUSE  %BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

of  those  very  telegraph-wires ;  but  Don  Silvestro 
began  to  laugh  with  his  hen's  cackle,  ah  !  ah !  ah  ! 
and  Padron  Cipolla  jumped  up  from  the  wall  in  a 
fury,  and  railed  at  "  ill-mannered  brutes  with  ears 
as  long  as  an  ass's."  Didn't  everybody  know  that 
the  telegraph  carried  the  news  from  one  place  to 
another;  this  was  because  inside  the  wires  there 
was  a  certain  fluid  like  the  sap  in  the  vines,  and  in 
the  same  way  it  sucked  the  rain  out  of  the  sky  and 
carried  it  off  where  there  was  more  need  of  it ;  they 
might  go  and  ask  the  apothecary,  who  said  it  him- 
self; and  it  was  for  this  reason  that  they  had  made 
a  law  that  whoever  broke  the  telegraph-wire  should 
go  to  prison.  Then  Don  Silvestro  had  no  more  to 
say,  and  put  his  tongue  between  his  teeth. 

"  Saints  of  Paradise !  some  one  ought  to  cut 
down  those  telegraph-posts  and  burn  them  !"  began 
Uncle  Zuppiddu,  but  no  one  listened  to  him,  and 
to  change  the  subject  looked  round  the  garden. 

"A  nice  piece  of  ground,"  said  Uncle  Mangia- 
carubbe ;  "  when  it  is  well  worked  it  gives  food 
enough  for  a  whole  year." 

The  house  of  the  Malavoglia  had  always  been 
one  of  the  first  in  Trezza,  but  now — with  Bastia- 
nazzo  drowned,  and  'Ntoni  gone  for  a  soldier,  and 
Mena  to  be  married,  and  all  those  hungry  little 
ones — it  was  a  house  that  leaked  at  every  seam. 

"  In  fact  what  could  it  be  worth,  the  house  ?" 

Every  one  stretched  out  his  neck  from  the  gar- 
den, measuring  the  house  with  his  eye,  to  guess  at 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  51 

the  value  of  it,  cursorily  as  it  were.  Don  Silvestro 
knew  more  about  it  than  any  one,  for  he  had  the 
papers  safe  in  the  clerk's  room  at  Aci  Castello. 

"Will  you  bet  five  francs  that  all  is  not  gold  that 
glitters,"  he  said,  showing  the  shining  new  silver 
piece  of  money.  He  knew  that  there  was  a  mort- 
gage of  two  francs  the  year,  so  he  began  to  count 
on  his  fingers  what  would  be  the  worth  of  the  house 
with  the  well  and  the  garden  and  all. 

"  Neither  the  house  nor  the  boat  can  be  sold,  for 
they  are  security  for  Maruzza's  dowry,"  said  some 
one  else ;  and  they  began  to  wrangle  about  it  until 
their  voices  might  have  been  heard  even  inside, 
where  the  family  were  mourning  for  the  dead.  "Of 
course,"  cried  Don  Silvestro,  like  a  pistol-  shot, 
"there's  the  dowry  mortgage." 

Padron  Cipolla,  who  had  spoken  with  Padron 
'Ntoni  about  the  marriage  of  his  son  Brasi  and 
Mena,  shook  his  head  and  said  nothing. 

"  Then,"  said  Uncle  Cola,  "  nobody  '11  suffer  but 
Uncle  Crucifix,  who  loses  his  lupins  that  he  sold  on 
credit." 

They  all  turned  to  look  at  old  Crucifix,  who  had 
come,  too,  for  appearance'  sake,  and  stood  straight 
up  in  a  corner,  listening  to  all  that  was  said,  with 
his  mouth  open  and  his  nose  up  in  the  air,  as  if  he 
was  counting  the  beams  and  the  tiles  of  the  roof  to 
make  a  valuation  of  the  house.  The  most  curious 
stretched  their  necks  to  look  at  him  from  the  door, 
and  winked  at  each  other,  as  if  to  point  him  out. 


52  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE   MEDLAR-TREE. 

"  He  looks  like  a  bailiff  making  an  inventory,"  they 
sneered. 

The  gossips,  who  had  got  wind  of  the  talk  be- 
tween Cipolla  and  Padron  'Ntoni  about  the  mar- 
riage, said  to  each  other  that  Maruzza  must  get 
through  her  mourning,  and  then  she  could  settle 
about  that  marriage  of  Mena's.  But  now  La  Longa 
had  other  things  to  think  of,  poor  dear ! 

Padron  Cipolla  turned  coolly  away  without  a 
word ;  and,  when  everybody  was  gone,  the  Mala- 
voglia  were  left  alone  in  the  court. 

"  Now,"  said  Padron  'Ntoni,  "  we  are  ruined,  and 
the  best  off  of  us  all  is  Bastianazzo,  who  doesn't 
know  it." 

At  these  words  Maruzza  began  to  cry  afresh,  and 
the  boys  seeing  the  grown-up  people  cry  began  to 
roar  again,  too,  though  it  was  three  days  now  since 
papa  was  dead.  The  old  man  wandered  about 
from  place  to  place,  without  knowing  what  he  was 
going  to  do.  But  Maruzza  never  moved  from  the 
foot  of  the  bed,  as  if  she  had  nothing  left  that  she 
could  do.  When  she  spoke  she  only  repeated,  with 
fi^ed  eyes,  as  if  she  had  no  other  idea  in  her  head, 
"  Now  I've  nothing  more  to  do." 

"  No  !"  replied  Padron  'Ntoni.  "  No  !  we  must 
pay  the  debt  to  old  Dumb-bell;  it  won't  do  to  have 
people  saying :  Honest  men  when  they  grow  poor 
become  knaves."  And  the  thought  of  the  lupins 
drove  the  thorn  of  Bastianazzo  deeper  into  his 
heart. 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  53 

The  medlar-tree  let  fall  dry  leaves,  and  the  wind 
blew  them  here  and  there  about  the  court. 

"  He  went  because  I  sent  him,"  repeated  Padron 
'Ntoni,  as  the  wind  bears  the  leaves  here  and  there, 
"  and  if  I  had  told  him  to  fling  himself  head  fore- 
most from  the  Fariglione,  he  would  have  done  it 
without  a  word.  At  least  he  died  while  the  house 
and  the  medlar-tree,  even  to  the  last  leaf,  were  his 
own ;  and  I,  who  am  old,  am  still  here.  '  Long  are 
the  days  of  the  poor  man.' " 

Maruzza  said  nothing,  but  in  her  head  there 
was  one  fixed  idea  that  beat  upon  her  brains,  and 
gnawed  at  her  heart — to  know,  if  she  might,  what 
had  happened  on  that  night;  that  was  always  be- 
fore her  eyes,  and  if  she  shut  them  she  seemed  to 
see  the  Provvidenza  out  by  the  Cape  of  the  Mills, 
where  the  sea  was  blue  and  smooth  and  sprinkled 
with  boats,  which  looked  like  gulls  in  the  sunshine, 
and  could  be  counted  one  by  one — that  of  Uncle 
Crucifix,  the  other  of  Cousin  Barrabbas,  Uncle 
Cola's  Concetta,  Padron  Fortunato's  bark — that  it 
swung  her  head  to  see ;  and  she  heard  Cola  Zup- 
piddu  singing  fit  to  split  his  throat  out  of  his  great 
bull's  lungs,  while  he  hammered  away  with  his 
mallet,  and  the  scent  of  the  tar  came  on  the  air; 
and  Cousin  Anna  thumped  her  linen  on  the  stone 
at  the  washing-tank,  and  she  heard  Mena,  too,  cry- 
ing quietly  in  the  kitchen. 

"  Poor  little  thing !"  said  the  grandfather  to  him- 
self, "the  house  has  come  down  about  your  ears 


54  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

too."  And  he  went  about  touching  one  by  one  all 
the  things  that  were  heaped  up  in  the  corner,  with 
trembling  hands,  as  old  men  do,  and  seeing  Luca 
at  the  door,  on  whom  they  had  put  his  father's  big 
jacket,  that  reached  to  his  heels,  he  said  to  him, 
u  That'll  keep  you  warm  at  your  work — we  must  all 
work  now — and  you  must  help,  for  we  have  to  pay 
the  debt  for  the  lupins." 

Maruzza  put  her  hands  to  her  ears  that  she  might 
not  hear  La  Locca,  who,  perched  on  the  landing 
behind  the  door,  screamed  all  day  long  with  her 
cracked  maniac's  voice,  saying  that  they  must  give 
her  back  her  son,  and  wouldn't  listen  to  reason 
from  anybody. 

"  She  goes  on  like  that  because  she's  hungry," 
said  Cousin  Anna,  at  last.  "  Now  old  Crucifix  is 
furious  at  them  all  about  the  lupins,  and  won't  do 
anything  for  them.  I'll  go  and  give  her  something 
to  eat,  and  then  she'll  go  away." 

Cousin  Anna,  poor  dear,  had  left  her  linen  and 
her  girls  to  go  and  help  Cousin  Maruzza,  who  acted 
as  if  she  were  sick,  and  if  they  had  left  her  alone 
she  wouldn't  have  lighted  the  fire  or  anything,  but 
would  have  left  them  all  to  starve.  "  Neighbors 
should  be  like  the  tiles  on  the  roof  that  carry 
water  for  each  other."  Meanwhile  the  poor  chil- 
dren's lips  were  pale  for  hunger.  Nunziata  came 
to  help  too,  and  Alessio  —  with  his  face  black 
from  crying  at  seeing  his  mother  cry — looked  after 
the  little  boys,  crowding  round  him  like  a  brood 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  55 

of  chickens,  that  Nunziata  might  have  her  hands 
free. 

"You  know  how  to  manage,"  said  Cousin  Anna 
to  her,  "  and  you'll  have  your  dowry  ready  in  your 
two  hands  when  you  grow  up." 


V. 

MENA  did  not  know  that  there  was  an  idea  of 
marrying  her  to  Padron  Cipolla's  Brasi  "  to  make 
the  mother  forget  her  grief,"  and  the  first  person 
to  tell  it  her  was  Alfio  Mosca,  who,  a  few  days  later, 
came  to  the  garden  gate,  on  his  way  back  from  Aci 
Castello,  with  his  donkey-cart.  Mena  replied,  "  It 
isn't  true,  it  isn't  true  !"  but  she  was  confused,  and 
as  he  went  on  telling  her  all  about  how  he  had 
heard  it  from  La  Vespa  in  the  house  of  Uncle  Cru- 
cifix, all  of  a  sudden  she  turned  red  all  over.  Cous- 
in Alfio,  too,  lost  countenance  seeing  the  girl  like 
that,  with  her  black  kerchief  over  her  head.  He 
began  to  play  with  the  buttons  of  his  coat,  stood 
first  on  one  leg,  then  on  the  other,  and  would  have 
given  anything  to  get  away.  "Listen;  it  isn't  my 
fault ;  I  heard  it  in  old  Dumb-bell's  court  while  I 
was  chopping  up  the  locust-tree  that  was  blown 
down  in  the  storm  at  the  Santa  Clara,  you  remem- 
ber. Now,  Uncle  Crucifix  gets  me  to  do  chores 
for  him,  because  he  won't  hear  of  La  Locca's  son 
ever  since  his  brother  played  him  that  trick  with 


56      THE  HOUSE  BV  THE  MEDLAR-TREE. 

the  cargo  of  lupins."  Mena  had  the  string  of  the 
gate  in  her  hand,  but  couldn't  make  up  her  mind  to 
open  it.  "And  then  if  it  isn't  true,  why  do  you 
blush  ?"  She  didn't  know,  that  was  the  truth, 
and  she  turned  the  latch-string  round  and  round. 
That  person  she  knew  only  by  sight,  and  hardly 
that.  Alfio  went  on  telling  her  the  whole  litany 
of  Brasi  Cipolla's  riches;  after  Uncle  Naso,  the 
butcher,  he  was  the  best  match  in  the  place,  and 
all  the  girls  were  ready  to  eat  him  up  with  their 
eyes.  Mena  listened  with  all  hers,  and  all  of  a 
sudden  she  made  him  a  low  courtesy,  and  went  off 
up  the  garden  path  to  the  house. 

Alfio,  in  a  fury,  went  off  and  scolded  La  Vespa 
for  telling  him  such  a  lot  of  stupid  lies,  getting  him 
into  hot  water  with  everybody. 

"Uncle  Crucifix  told  me,"  replied  La  Vespa;  "I 
don't  tell  lies !" 

"  Lies  !  lies  !"  growled  old  Crucifix.  "  I  ain't 
going  to  damn  my  soul  for  that  lot !  I  heard  it 
with  these  ears.  I  heard  also  that  the  Provvidenza 
is  in  Maruzza's  dowry,  and  that  there's  a  mortgage 
of  two  francs  a  year  on  the  house." 

"  You  wait  and  you'll  see  if  I  tell  lies  or  not," 
continued  La  Vespa,  leaning  back  against  the  bu- 
reau, with  her  hands  on  her  hips,  and  looking  at 
him  all  the  time  with  the  wickedest  eyes.  "  You 
men  are  all  alike ;  one  can't  trust  any  of  you." 

Meanwhile  Uncle  Crucifix  didn't  hear,  and  in- 
stead of  eating,  went  on  talking  about  the  Mala- 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  57 

voglia,  who  were  talking  of  marriages  in  the  family ; 
but  of  the  two  hundred  francs  for  the  lupins  no- 
body heard  a  word. 

"Eh!"  cried  La  Vespa,  losing  patience,  "if  one 
listened  to  you  nobody  would  get  married  at  all." 

"  I  don't  care  who  gets  married  or  who  doesn't,  I 
want  my  own;  I  don't  care  for  anything  else." 

"  If  you  don't  care  about  it,  who  should  ?  I  say 
— everybody  isrj't  like  you,  always  putting  things 
off." 

"  And  are  you  in  a  hurry,  pray  ?" 

"Of  course  I  am.  You  have  plenty  of  time  to 
wait,  you're  so  young ;  but  everybody  can't  wait 
till  the  cows  come  home,  to  get  married." 

"  It's  a  bad  year,"  said  Uncle  Dumb-bell.  "  No 
one  has  time  to  think  of  such  things  as  those." 

La  Vespa  at  this  planted  her  hands  on  her  hips, 
and  went  off  like  a  railway-whistle,  as  if  her  own 
wasp's  sting  had  been  on  her  tongue. 

"Now,  listen  to  what  I'm  going  to  say.  After 
all,  my  living  is  mine,  and  I  don't  need  to  go  about 
begging  for  a  husband.  What  do  you  mean  by  it  ? 
If  you  hadn't  come  filling  my  head  with  your  flat- 
tery and  nonsense,  I  might  have  had  half  a  thou- 
sand husbands  —  Vanni  Pizzuti,  and  Alfio  Mos- 
ca,  and  my  Cousin  Cola,  that  was  always  hanging 
on  to  my  skirts  before  he  went  for  a  soldier,  and 
wouldn't  even  let  me  tie  up  my  stockings — all  of 
them  burning  with  impatience,  too.  They  wouldn't 
have  gone  on  leading  me  by  the  nose  this  way,  and 


58  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

keeping  me  slinging  round  from  Easter  until  Christ- 
mas, as  you've  done." 

This  time  Uncle  Crucifix  put  his  hand  behind 
his  ear  to  hear  the  better,  and  began  to  smooth  her 
down  with  good  words :  "  Yes,  I  know  you  are  a 
sensible  girl ;  for  that  I  am  fond  of  you,  and  am  not 
like  those  fellows  that  were  after  you  to  nobble 
your  land,  and  then  to  eat  it  up  at  Santuzza's  tav- 
ern." 

"  It  isn't  true  !  you  don't  love  me.  If  you  did 
you  wouldn't  act  this  way ;  you  would  see  what  I 
am  really  thinking  of  all  the  time — yes,  you  would." 

She  turned  her  back  on  him,  and  still  went  on 
poking  at  him,  as  if  unconsciously,  with  her  elbow. 
"  I  know  you  don't  care  for  me,"  she  said. 

The  uncle  was  offended  by  this  unkind  suspi- 
cion. ""  You  say  these  things  to  draw  me  into  sin." 
He  began  to  complain.  He  not  care  for  his  own 
flesh  and  blood! — for  she  was  his  own  flesh  and 
blood  after  all,  as  the  vineyard  was,  and  it  would 
have  been  his  if  his  brother  hadn't  taken  it  into  his 
head  to  marry,  and  bring  the  Wasp  into  the  world ; 
and  for  that  he  had  always  kept  her  as  the  apple 
of  his  eye,  and  thought  only  of  her  good.  "  Listen !" 
he  said.  "  I  thought  of  making  over  to  you  the 
debt  of  the  Malavoglia,  in  exchange  for  the  vine- 
yard, which  is  worth  forty  scudi,  and  with  the  ex- 
penses and  the  interest  may  even  reach  fifty  scudi, 
and  you  may  get  hold  even  of  the  house  by  the 
medlar,  which  is  worth  more  than  the  vineyard." 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  59 

"  Keep  the  house  by  the  medlar  for  yourself," 
said  she.  "  I'll  keep  my  vineyard.  I  know  very 
well  what  to  do  with  it."  Then  Uncle  Crucifix  also 
flew  into  a  rage,  and  said  that  she  meant  to  let  it 
be  gobbled  up  by  that  beggar  Alfio  Mosca,  who 
made  fish's-eyes  at  her  for  love  of  the  vineyard, 
and  that  he  wouldn't  have  him  about  the  house  any 
more,  and  would  have  her  to  know  that  he  had 
blood  in  his  veins,  too.  "  I  declare  if  he  isn't  jeal- 
ous !"  cried  the  Wasp. 

"  Of  course  I'm  jealous,"  said  the  old  man,  "jeal- 
ous as  a  wild  beast;"  and  he  swore  he'd  pay  five 
francs  to  whoever  would  break  Alfio  Mosca's  head 
for  him,  but  would  not  do  it  himself,  for  he  was  a 
God-fearing  Christian;  and  in  these  days  honest 
men  were  cheated,  for  good  faith  dwells  in  the 
house  of  the  fool,  where  one  may  buy  a  rope  to 
hang  one's  self;  the  proof  of  it  was  that  one  might 
pass  and  repass  the  house  of  the  Malavoglia  till 
all  was  blue,  until  people  had  begun  to  make  fun 
of  him,  and  to  say  that  he  made  pilgrimages  to  the 
house  by  the  medlar,  as  they  did  who  made  vows 
to  the  Madonna  at  Ognino.  The  Malavoglia  paid 
him  with  bows,  and  nothing  else;  and  the  boys,  if 
they  saw  him  enter  the  street,  ran  off  as  if  they  had 
seen  a  bugbear;  but  until  now  he  hadn't  heard  a 
word  of  that  money  for  the  lupins — and  All  Souls 
was  hard  at  hand  —  and  here  was  Padron  'Ntoni 
talking  of  his  granddaughter's  marriage  ! 

He  went  off  and  growled  at  Goosefoot,  who  had 


60  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

got  him  into  this  scrape,  he  said  to  others;  but  the 
others  said  he  went  to  cast  sheep's -eyes  at  the 
house  by  the  medlar-tree ;  and  La  Locca — who  was 
always  wandering  about  there,  because  she  had  been 
told  that  her  son  had  gone  away  in  the  Malavoglia's 
boat,  and  she  thought  he  would  come  back  that 
way,  and  she  should  find  him  there  —  never  saw 
her  brother  Crucifix  without  beginning  to  screech 
like  a  bird  of  ill  omen,  making  him  more  furious 
than  ever.  "  This  one  will  drive  me  into  a  mortal 
sin,"  cried  Dumb-bell. 

"All  Souls  is  not  yet  come/'  answered  Goosefoot, 
gesticulating,  as  usual;  "have  a  little  patience  !  Do 
you  want  to  suck  Padron  'Ntoni's  blood  ?  You 
know  very  well  that  you've  really  lost  nothing,  for 
the  lupins  were  good  for  nothing — you  know  that." 

He  knew  nothing;  he  only  knew  that  his  blood 
was  in  God's  hands,  and  that  the  Malavoglia  boys 
dared  not  play  on  the  landing  when  he  passed  be- 
fore Goosefoot's  door.  And  if  he  met  Alfio  Mosca, 
with  his  donkey-cart,  who  took  off  his  cap,  with  his 
sunburnt  face,  he  felt  his  blood  boiling  with  jeal- 
ousy about  the  vineyard.  "  He  wants  to  entrap  my 
niece  for  the  sake  of  the  vineyard,"  he  grumbled 
to  Goosefoot.  "A  lazy  hound,  who  does  nothing 
but  strut  round  with  that  donkey -cart,  and  has 
nothing  else  in  the  world.  A  starving  beggar  !  A 
rascal  who  makes  that  ugly  witch  of  a  niece  of 
mine  believe  that  he's  in  love  with  her  pig's  face, 
for  love  of  her  property  " 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  6 1 

Meantime  Alfio  Mosca  was  not  thinking  of  Ves- 
pa  at  all,  and  if  he  had  any  one  in  his  eye  it  was 
rather  Padron  'Ntoni's  Mena,  whom  he  saw  every 
day  in  the  garden  or  on  the  landing,  or  when  she 
went  to  look  after  the  hens  in  the  chicken-coop ; 
and  if  he  heard  the  pair  of  fowls  he  had  given  her 
cackling  in  the  court-yard,  he  felt  something  stir  in- 
side of  him,  and  felt  as  if  he  himself  were  there  in 
the  court  of  the  house  by  the  medlar;  and  if  he  had 
been  something  better  than  a  poor  carter  he  would 
have  asked  for  Sant'Agata's  hand  in  marriage, 
and  carried  her  off  in  the  donkey-cart.  When  he 
thought  of  all  these  things  he  felt  as  if  he  had  a 
thousand  things  to  say  to  her ;  and  yet  when  she 
was  by  his  tongue  was  tied,  and  he  could  only  talk 
of  the  weather,  or  the  last  load  of  wine  he  had 
carried  for  the  Santuzza,  and  of  the  donkey,  who 
could  draw  four  quintals'  weight  better  than  a  mule, 
poor  beast ! 

Mena  stroked  the  poor  beast  with  her  hand,  and 
Alfio  smiled  as  if  it  had  been  himself  whom  she 
had  caressed.  "Ah,  if  my  donkey  were  yours,  Cous- 
in Mena !"  And  Mena  shook  her  head  sadly,  and 
wished  that  the  Malavoglia  had  been  carriers,  for 
then  her  poor  father  would  not  have  died. 

"  The  sea  is  salt,"  she  said,  "  and  the  sailor  dies 
in  the  sea." 

Alfio,  who  was  in  a  hurry  to  carry  the  wine  to 
Santuzza,  couldn't  make  up  his  mind  to  go,  but 
stayed,  chatting  about  the  fine  thing  it  was  to  keep 


62  THE    HOUSE   BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

tavern,  and  how  that  trade  never  fell  off,  and  if 
the  wine  was  dear  one  had  only  to  pour  more 
water  into  the  barrels.  Uncle  Santoro  had  grown 
rich  in  that  way,  and  now  he  only  begged  for  amuse- 
ment. 

"And  you  do  very  well  carrying  the  wine,  do  you 
not?"  asked  Mena. 

"Yes,  in  summer,  when  I  can  travel  by  night 
and  by  day  both;  that  way  I  manage  pretty  well. 
This  poor  beast  earns  his  living.  When  I  shall 
have  saved  a  little  money  I'll  buy  a  mule,  and  then 
I  can  become  a  real  carrier  like  Master  Mariano 
Cinghialenta." 

The  girl  was  listening  intently  to  all  that  Alfio 
was  saying,  and  meanwhile  the  gray  olive  shook, 
with  a  sound  like  rain,  and  strewed  the  path  with 
little  dry  curly  leaves. 

"  Here  is  the  winter  coming,  and  all  this  we  talk 
of  is  for  the  summer,"  said  Goodman  Alfio.  Mena 
followed  with  her  eyes  the  shadows  of  the  clouds 
that  floated  over  the  fields,  as  if  the  gray  olive 
had  melted  and  blown  away ;  so  the  thoughts  flew 
through  her  head,  and  she  said : 

"  Do  you  know,  Cousin  Alfio,  there  is  nothing  in 
that  story  about  Padron  Fortunato  Cipolla,  because 
first  we  must  pay  the  debt  for  the  lupins." 

"  I'm  glad  of  it,"  said  Mosca;  "so  you  won't  go 
away  from  the  neighborhood." 

"  When  'Ntoni  comes  back  from  being  a  soldier, 
grandfather  and  all  of  us  will  help  each  other  to 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  63 

pay  the  debt.  Mamma  has  taken  some  linen  to 
weave  for  her  ladyship." 

"  The  druggist's  is  a  good  trade,  too !"  said  Alfio 
Mosca. 

At  this  moment  appeared  Cousin  Venera  Zup- 
pidda,  with  her  distaff  in  her  hand.  "  O  Heaven  ! 
somebody's  coming,"  cried  Mena,  and  ran  off  into 
the  house. 

Alfio  whipped  the  donkey,  and  wanted  to  get 
away  as  well,  but — 

"  Oh,  Goodman  Alfio,  what  a  hurry  you're  in  !" 
cried  La  Zuppidda,  "  I  wanted  to  ask  you  if  the 
wine  you're  taking  to  Santuzza  is  the  same  she  had 
last  time." 

"I  don't  know;  they  give  me  the  wine  in  bar- 
rel." 

"  That  last  was  vinegar — only  fit  for  salad — reg- 
ular poison  it  was;  that's  the  way  Santuzza  gets 
rich;  and  to  cheat  the  better,  she  wears  the  big 
medal  of  the  Daughters  of  Mary  on  the  front  of 
her  dress.  Nowadays  whoever  wants  to  get  on 
must  take  to  that  trade ;  else  they  go  backward, 
like  crabs,  as  the  Malavoglia  have.  Now  they 
have  fished  up  the  Provvidenza,  you  know  ?" 

"  No ;  I  was  away,  but  Cousin  Mena  knew  noth- 
ing of  it." 

"They  have  just  brought  the  news,  and  Padron 
'Ntoni  has  gone  off  to  the  Rotolo  to  see  her  towed 
in ;  he  went  as  if  he  had  got  a  new  pair  of  legs,  the 
old  fellow.  Now,  with  the  Provvidenza,  the  Mala- 


64  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

voglia  can  get  back  where  they  were  before,  and 
Men  a  will  again  be  a  good  match." 

Alfio  did  not  answer,  for  the  Zuppidda  was  look- 
ing at  him  fixedly,  with  her  little  yellow  eyes,  and 
he  said  he  was  in  a  hurry  to  take  the  wine  to  San- 
tuzza. 

"He  won't  tell  me  anything,"  muttered  the  Zup- 
pidda, "as  if  I  hadn't  seen  them  with  my  eyes. 
They  want  to  hide  the  sun  with  a  net." 

The  Provvidenza  had  been  towed  to  shore,  all 
smashed,  just  as  she  had  been  found  beyond  the 
Cape  of  the  Mills,  with  her  nose  among  the  rocks 
and  her  keel  in  the  air.  In  one  moment  the  whole 
village  was  at  the  shore,  men  and  women  together, 
and  Padron  'Ntoni,  mixed  up  with  the  crowd,  look- 
ed on  like  the  rest.  Some  gave  kicks  to  the  poor 
Provvidenza  to  hear  how  she  was  cracked,  as  if  she 
no  longer  belonged  to  anybody,  and  the  poor  old 
man  felt  those  kicks  in  his  own  stomach.  "A  fine 
Providence  you  have !"  said  Don  Franco  to  him, 
for  he,  too,  had  come  —  in  his  shirt  -  sleeves  and 
his  great  ugly  hat,  with  his  pipe  in  his  mouth — to 
look  on. 

"  She's  only  fit  to  burn,"  concluded  Padron  For- 
tunato  Cipolla;  and  Goodman  Mangiacarubbe,  who 
understood  those  matters,  said  that  the  boat  must 
have  gone  down  all  of  a  sudden,  without  leaving 
time  for  those  on  board  to  cry  "  Lord  Jesus,  help 
us !"  for  the  sea  had  swept  away  sails,  masts,  oars, 
everything,  and  hadn't  left  a  single  bolt  in  its  place. 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE,  65 

"  This  was  papa's  place,  where  there's  the  new  row- 
lock," said  Luca,  who  had  climbed  over  the  side, 
"  and  here  were  the  lupins,  underneath." 

But  of  the  lupins  there  was  not  one  left;  the  sea 
had  swept  everything  clean  away.  For  this  rea- 
son Maruzza  would  not  leave  the  house,  and  never 
wanted  to  see  the  Provvidenza  again  in  her  life. 

"The  hull  will  hold;  something  can  be  made  of 
it  yet,"  pronounced  Master  Zuppiddu,  the  calker, 
kicking  the  Provvidenza^  too,  with  his  great  ugly 
feet;  "with  three  or  four  patches  she  can  go  to  sea 
again;  never  be  fit  for  bad  weather — a  big  wave 
would  send  her  all  to  pieces — but  for  'long-shore 
fishing,  and  for  fine  weather,  she'll  do  very  well." 
Padron  Cipolla,  Goodman  Mangiacarubbe,  and 
Cousin  Cola  stood  by,  listening  in  silence. 

"Yes,"  said  Padron  Fortunato,  at  last.  "It's 
better  than  setting  fire  to  her." 

"I'm  glad  of  it,"  said  Uncle  Crucifix,  who  also 
stood  looking  on,  with  his  hands  behind  his  back. 
"We  are  Christians,  and  should  rejoice  in  each 
other's  good  -  fortune.  What  says  the  proverb? 
1  Wish  well  to  thy  neighbor  and  thou  wilt  gain 
something  for  thyself.' " 

The  boys  had  installed  themselves  inside  the 
Provvidenza,  as  well  as  the  other  lads  who  insisted 
on  climbing  up  into  her,  too.  "  When  we  have 
mended  the  Provvidenza  properly,"  said  Alessio, 
"she  will  be  like  Uncle  Cola's  Concetta;"  and  they 
gave  themselves  no  end  of  trouble  pushing  and  haul- 
5 


66  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

ing  at  her,  to  get  her  down  to  the  beach,  before  the 
door  of  Master  Zuppiddu,  the  calker,  where  there 
were  the  big  stones  to  keep  the  boats  in  place,  and 
the  great  kettles  for  the  tar,  and  heaps  of  beams, 
and  ribs  and  knees  leaning  against  the  wall.  Alessio 
was  always  at  loggerheads  with  the  other  boys,  who 
wanted  to  climb  up  into  the  boat,  and  to  help  to 
fan  the  fire  under  the  kettle  of  pitch,  and  when 
they  pushed  him  he  would  say,  in  a  threatening 
whine  : 

"Wait  till  my  brother  'Ntoni  comes  back!" 

Jo  fact  'Ntoni  had  sent  in  his  papers  and  ob- 
tained his  leave — although  Don  Silvestro,  the  town- 
clerk,  had  assured  him  that  if  he  would  stay  on  six 
months  longer  as  a  soldier  he  would  liberate  his 
brother  Luca  from  the  conscription.  But  'Ntoni 
wouldn't  stay  even  six  days  longer,  now  that  his 
father  was  dead;  Luca  would  have  done  just  as  he 
did  if  that  misfortune  had  come  upon  him  while 
he  was  away  from  home,  and  wouldn't  have  done 
another  stroke  of  work  if  it  hadn't  been  for  those 
dogs  of  superiors. 

"For  my  part,"  said  Luca,  "I  am  quite  willing 
to  go  for  a  soldier,  instead  of  'Ntoni.  Now,  when 
he  comes  back,  the  Provvidenza  can  put  to  sea 
again,  and  there'll  be  no  need  of  anybody." 

"That  fellow,"  cried  Padron  'Ntoni,  with  great 
pride,  "  is  just  like  his  father  Bastianazzo,  who  had 
a  heart  as  big  as  the  sea,  and  as  kind  as  the  mercy 
of  God." 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  67 

One  evening  Padron  'Ntoni  came  home  panting 
with  excitement,  exclaiming,  "  Here's  the  letter ; 
Goodman  Cirino,  the  sacristan,  gave  it  to  me  as  I 
came  from  taking  the  nets  to  Pappafave." 

La  Longa  turned  quite  pale  for  joy;  and  they  all 
ran  into  the  kitchen  to  see  the  letter. 

'Ntoni  arrived,  with  his  cap  over  one  ear,  and  a 
shirt  covered  with  stars;  and  his  mother  couldn't 
get  enough  of  him,  as  the  whole  family  and  all  his 
friends  followed  him  home  from  the  station ;  in  a 
moment  the  house  was  full  of  people,  just  as  it  had 
been  at  the  funeral  of  poor  Bastianazzo,  whom  no- 
body thought  of  now. 

Some  things  nobody  remembers  but  old  people, 
so  much  so  that  La  Locca  was  always  sitting  be- 
fore the  Malavoglia  house,  against  the  wall,  waiting 
for  her  Menico,  and  turning  her  head  this  way  and 
that  at  every  step  that  she  heard  passing  up  or 
down  the  alley. 


VL 

'NTONI  got  back  on  a  Sunday,  and  went  from 
door  to  door  saluting  his  friends  and  acquaint- 
ances, the  centre  of  an  admiring  crowd  of  boys, 
while  the  girls  came  to  the  windows  to  look  at 
him ;  the  only  one  that  was  not  there  was  Mammy 
Tudda's  Sara. 

"  She  has  gone  to  Ognino  with  her  husband," 


68      THE  HOUSE  BY  THE  MEDLAR-TREE. 

Santuzza  told  him.  "  She  has  married  Menico 
Trinca,  a  widower  with  six  children,  but  as  rich  as 
a  hog.  She  married  him  before  his  first  wife  had 
been  dead  a  month.  God  forgive  us  all !" 

"A  widower  is  like  a  soldier,"  added  La  Zup- 
pidda;  "a  soldier's  love  is  soon  cold;  at  tap  of 
drum,  adieu,  my  lady !" 

Cousin  Venera,  who  went  to  the  station  to  see  if 
Mammy  Tudda's  Sara  would  come  to  say  good-bye 
to  Padron  'Ntoni's  'Ntoni,  because  she  had  seen 
them  talking  to  each  other  over  the  vineyard  wall, 
hoped  to  put  'Ntoni  out  of  countenance  by  this 
piece  of  news.  But  time  had  changed  him  too— 
"Out  of  sight,  out  of  mind  " — 'Ntoni  now  wore  his 
cap  over  his  ear. 

"  I  don't  like  those  flirts  who  make  love  to  two 
or  three  people  at  a  time,"  said  the  Mangiacarubbe, 
pulling  the  ends  of  her  kerchief  tighter  under  her 
chin,  and  looking  as  innocent  as  a  Madonna.  "  If 
I  were  to  love  anybody,  I'd  stick  to  that  one,  and 
would  change,  no,  not  for  Victor  Emmanuel  him- 
self, or  Garibaldi,  even." 

"  I  know  whom  you  love !"  said  'Ntoni,  with  his 
hand  on  his  hip. 

"No,  Cousin  'Ntoni,  you  don't  know;  they  have 
told  you  a  lot  of  gossip  without  a  word  of  truth  in 
it.  If  ever  you  are  passing  my  door,  just  you  come 
in,  and  I'll  tell  you  the  whole  story." 

"  Now  that  the  Mangiacarubbe  has  set  her  heart 
on  Padron  'Ntoni's  'Ntoni,  it  will  be  a  real  mercy 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  69 

for  his  cousin  Anna  if  anything  comes  of  it,"  said 
Cousin  Venera. 

'Ntoni  went  off  in  high  feather,  swaggering  with 
his  hand  on  his  hip,  followed  by  a  train  of  friends, 
wishing  that  every  day  might  be  Sunday,  that  he 
might  carry  his  pretty  shirts  out  a-walking.  That 
afternoon  he  amused  himself  by  wrestling  with 
Cousin  Pizzuti,  who  hadn't  the  fear  of  God  be- 
fore his  eyes  (though  he  had  never  been  for  a 
soldier),  and  sent  him  rolling  on  the  ground  be- 
fore the  tavern,  with  a  bloody  nose ;  but  Rocco 
Spatu  was  stronger  than  'Ntoni,  and  threw  him 
down. 

In  short,  'Ntoni  amused  himself  the  whole  day 
long;  and  while  they  were  sitting  chatting  round 
the  table  in  the  evening,  and  his  mother  asked  him 
all  sorts  of  questions  about  one  thing  and  another, 
and  Mena  looked  at  his  cap,  and  his  shirt  with  the 
stars,  to  see  how  they  were  made,  and  the  boys,  half 
asleep,  gazed  at  him  with  all  their  eyes,  his  grand- 
father told  him  that  he  had  found  a  place  for  him, 
by  the  day,  on  board  Padron  Fortunato  Cipolla's 
bark,  at  very  good  wages. 

"  I  took  him  for  charity,"  said  Padron  Fortunato 
to  whoever  would  listen  to  him,  sitting  on  the  bench 
in  front  of  the  barber's  shop.  "  I  took  him  because 
I  couldn't  bear  to  say  no  when  Padron  'Ntoni  came 
to  ask  me,  under  the  elm,  if  I  wanted  men  for  the 
bark.  I  never  have  any  need  of  men,  but  Mn 
prison,  in  sickness,  and  in  need  one  knows  one's 


70  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

friends';  with  Padron  'Ntoni,  too,  who  is  so  old  that 
his  wages  are  money  thrown  away." 

"He's  old,  but  he  knows  his  business,"  replied, 
old  Goosefoot.  "  His  wages  are  by  no  means  thrown 
away,  and  his  grandson  is  a  fellow  that  any  one 
might  be  glad  to  get  away  from  him — or  from  you, 
for  that  matter." 

"  When  Master  Bastian  has  finished  mending  the 
Provvidenza  we'll  get  her  to  sea  again,  and  then  we 
sha'n't  need  to  go  out  by  the  day,"  said  Padron 
'Ntoni. 

In  the  morning,  when  he  went  to  wake  his  grand- 
son, it  wanted  two  hours  to  dawn,  and  'Ntoni  would 
have  preferred  to  remain  under  the  blankets;  when 
he  came  yawning  out  into  the  court,  the  Three  Sticks 
were  still  high  over  Ognino,  and  the  Puddara* 
shone  on  the  other  side,  and  all  the  stars  glittered 
like  the  sparks  under  a  frying-pan.  "  It's  the  same 
thing  over  again  as  when  I  was  a  soldier  and  they 
beat  the  reveille  on  deck,"  growled  'Ntoni.  "  It 
wasn't  worth  while  coming  home,  at  this  rate !" 

"  Hush,"  said  Alessio.  "  Grandpapa  is  out  there 
getting  ready  the  tackle ;  he's  been  up  an  hour  al- 
ready;" but  Alessio  was  a  boy.  just  like  his  father 
Bastianazzo,  rest  his  soul !  Grandfather  went  about 
here  and  there  in  the  court  with  his  lantern ;  out- 
side could  be  heard  the  people  passing  towards  the 
sea,  knocking  at  the  doors  as  they  passed  to  rouse 

*  The  Great  Bear. 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  71 

their  companions.  All  the  same,  when  they  came 
to  the  shore,  where  the  stars  were  mirrored  in  the 
black  smooth  sea,  which  murmured  softly  on  the 
stones,  and  saw  here  and  there  the  lights  of  the 
other  boats,  'Ntoni,  too,  felt  his  heart  swell  within 
him.  "Ah,"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  mighty  stretch 
of  his  arms,  "  it  is  a  fine  thing  to  come  back  to 
one's  own  home.  This  sea  knows  me."  And  Pa- 
dron  'Ntoni  said,  "No  fish  can  live  out  of  water," 
and  "  For  the  man  who  is  born  a  fish  the  sea  waits." 

On  board  the  bark  they  chaffed  'Ntoni  because 
Sara  had  jilted  him.  While  they  were  furling  the 
sails,  and  the  Carmela  was  rowed  slowly  round  and 
round,  dragging  the  big  net  after  her  like  a  ser- 
pent's tail,  "'  Swine's  flesh  and  soldier's  faith  last 
but  a  little  while,'  for  that  Sara  threw  you  over," 
they  said  to  him. 

"When  the  Turk  turns  Christian  the  woman 
keeps  her  word,"  said  Uncle  Cola. 

"  I  have  plenty  of  sweethearts,  if  I  want  them," 
replied  'Ntoni;  "at  Naples,  they  ran  after  me." 

"At  Naples  you  had  a  cloth  coat  and  a  cap  with 
a  name  on  it,  and  shoes  on  your  feet,"  said  Ba- 
rabbas. 

"Are  the  girls  at  Naples  as  pretty  as  the  ones 
here  ?" 

"The  girls  here  are  not  fit  to  hold  a  candle  to 
those  in  Naples.  I  had  one  with  a  silk  dress,  and 
red  ribbons  in  her  hair,  an  embroidered  corset,  and 
gold  epaulets  like  the  captain's.  A  fine,  handsome 


72  THE   HOUSE   BY   THE   MEDLAR-TREE. 

girl  who  brought  her  master's  children  out  to  walk, 
and  did  nothing  else." 

"  It  must  be  a  fine  thing  to  live  in  those  ports," 
observed  Barabbas. 

"  You  on  the  left  there,  stop  rowing  1"  called  out 
Padron  'Ntoni.  • 

"  Blood  of  Judas  !  You'll  send  the  bark  onto  the 
net,"  shouted  Uncle  Cola  from  the  helm.  "Will 
you  stop  chattering !  Are  we  here  to  scratch  our- 
selves or  to  work  ?" 

"  It's  the  tide  drives  us  up,"  said  'Ntoni. 

"  Draw  in  there,  you  son  of  a  pig ;  your  head  is 
so  full  of  those  queens  of  yours  that  you'll  make 
us  lose  the  whole  day,"  shouted  Barabbas. 

"  Sacrament !"  replied  'Ntoni,  with  his  oar  in  the 
air.  "  If  you  say  that  again  I'll  bring  it  down  on 
your  head." 

"What's  all  this?"  cried  Uncle  Cola  from  the 
helm.  "  Did  you  learn  when  you  were  a  soldier 
not  to  hear  a  word  from  anybody  ?" 

"  I'll  go,"  said  'Ntoni. 

"  Go  along,  then  !  With  Padron  Fortunato's  mon- 
ey he'll  soon  find  another." 

"Prudence  is  for  the  master,  patience  for  the 
man,"  said  Padron  'Ntoni. 

'Ntoni  continued  to  row,  growling  all  the  while, 
as  he  could  not  get  up  and  walk  away ;  and  Cousin 
Mangiacarubbe,  to  put  an  end  to  the  quarrelling, 
said  it  was  time  for  breakfast. 

At  that  moment  the  sun  was  just  rising,  and  a 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  73 

draught  of  wine  was  pleasant  in  the  cold  air  which 
began  to  blow.  So  the  boys  began  to  set  their  jaws 
at  work,  with  flask  between  their  knees,  while  the 
bark  moved  slowly  about  inside  the  ring  of  corks. 

"A  kick  to  whoever  speaks  first,''  said  Uncle 
Cola. 

Not  to  be  kicked,  they  all  began  to  chew  like  so 
many  oxen,  watching  the  waves  that  came  rolling 
in  from  the  open  sea  and  spreading  out  without 
foam,  those  green  billows  that  on  a  fair  sunny  day 
remind  one  of  a  black  sky  and  a  slate-colored  sea. 

"  Padron  Cipolla  will  be  swearing  roundly  at  us 
to-night,"  said  Uncle  Cola;  "but  it  isn't  our  fault. 
In  this  fresh  breeze  there's  no  chance  of  fish.*' 

First  Goodman  Mangiacarubbe  let  fly  a  kick  at 
Uncle  Cola,  who  had  broken  silence  himself  after 
declaring  the  forfeit,  and  then  answered  : 

"  Since  we  are  here,  we  may  as  well  leave  the  net 
out  a  while  longer." 

"  The  tide  is  coming  from  the  open ;  that  will  help 
us,"  said  Padron  'Ntoni. 

"Ay,  ay !"  muttered  Uncle  Cola  meanwhile. 

Now  that  the  silence  was  broken,  Barabbas  asked 
'Ntoni  Malavoglia  for  a  stump  of  a  cigar. 

"  I  haven't  but  one,"  said  'Ntoni,  without  think- 
ing of  the  recent  quarrel,  "but  I'll  give  you  half  of 
mine." 

The  crew  of  the  bark,  leaning  their  backs  against 
the  bench,  with  hands  behind  their  heads,  hummed 
snatches  of  songs  under  their  breath,  each  on  his 


74  THE   HOUSE    BY   THE   MEDLAR-TREE. 

own  account,  to  keep  himself  awake,  for  it  was  very 
difficult  not  to  doze  in  the  blazing  sun ;  and  Ba- 
rabbas  snapped  his  fingers  at  the  fish  which  leaped 
flashing  out  of  the  water. 

"They  have  nothing  to  do,"  said  'Ntoni,  "and 
they  amuse  themselves  by  jumping  about." 

"  How  good  this  cigar  is  !"  said  Barabbas.  "  Did 
you  smoke  these  at  Naples  ?" 

"  Yes,  plenty  of  them." 

"  All  the  same,  the  corks  are  beginning  to  sink," 
said  Goodman  Mangiacarubbe. 

"  Do  you  see  where  the  Provvidenza  went  down 
with  your  father?"  said  Barabbas  to  'Ntoni;  "there 
at  the  Cape,  where  the  sun  glints  on  those  white 
houses,  and  the  sea  seems  as  if  it  were  made  of 
gold." 

"  The  sea  is  salt,  and  the  sailor  sinks  in  the  sea," 
replied  'Ntoni. 

Barabbas  passed  him  his  flask,  and  they  began 
to  mutter  to  each  other  under  their  breath  against 
Uncle  Cola,  who  was  a  regular  dog  for  the  crew  of 
the  bark,  watching  everything  they  said  and  did ; 
they  might  as  well  have  Padron  Cipolla  himself  on 
board. 

"And  all  to  make  him  believe  that  the  boat 
couldn't  get  on  without  him,"  added  Barabbas ; 
"  an  old  spy.  Now  he'll  go  saying  that  it  is  he  that 
has  caught  the  fish  by  his  cleverness,  in  spite  of  the 
rough  sea.  Look  how  the  nets  are  sinking;  the 
corks  are  quite  under  water;  you  can't  see  them." 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  75 

"  Holloa,  boys  !"  shouted  Uncle  Cola ;  "  we  must 
draw  in  the  net,  or  the  tide  will  sweep  it  away." 

"  O-hi !  O-o-o-hi !"  the  crew  began  to  vociferate, 
as  they  passed  the  rope  from  hand  to  hand. 

"  Saint  Francis  !"  cried  Uncle  Cola,  "  who  would 
have  thought  that  we  should  have  taken  all  this 
precious  load  in  spite  of  the  tide  ?" 

The  nets  shivered  and  glittered  in  the  sun,  and 
all  the  bottom  of  the  boat  seemed  full  of  quick- 
silver. 

"  Padron  Fortunato  will  be  contented  now,"  said 
Barabbas,  red  and  sweaty,  "  and  won't  throw  in  our 
faces  those  few  centimes  he  pays  us  for  the  day." 

"This  is  what  we  get,"  said  'Ntoni,  "to  break 
our  backs  for  other  people ;  and  then  when  we 
have  put  a  few  soldi  together  comes  the  devil  and 
carries  them  off." 

"What  are  you  grumbling  about?"  asked  his 
grandfather.  "  Doesn't  Padron  Fortunato  pay  your 
day's  wages  ?" 

The  Malavoglia  were  mad  after  money:  La 
Longa  took  in  weaving  and  washing ;  Padron 
'Ntoni  and  his  grandsons  went  out  by  the  day,  and 
helped  each  other  as  best  they  could;  and  when 
the  old  man  was  bent  double  with  sciatica,  he  stay- 
ed in  the  court  and  mended  nets  and  tackle  of  all 
kinds,  of  which  trade  he  was  a  master.  Luca  went 
to  work  at  the  bridge  on  the  railroad  for  fifty  cen- 
times a  day,  though  'Ntoni  said  that  wasn't  enough 
to  pay  for  the  shirts  he  spoiled  by  carrying  loads 


76  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

on  his  back  —  but  Luca  didn't  mind  spoiling  his 
shirts,  or  his  shoulders  either;  and  Alessio  went 
gathering  crabs  and  mussels  on  the  shore,  and  sold 
them  for  ten  sous  the  pound,  and  sometimes  he 
went  as  far  as  Ognino  or  the  Cape  of  the  Mills, 
and  came  back  with  his  feet  all  bloody.  But  Good- 
man Zuppiddu  wanted  a  good  sum  every  Saturday 
for  mending  the  Provvidenza ;  and  one  wanted  a 
good  many  nets  to  mend,  and  rolls  of  linen  to 
weave,  and  crabs  at  ten  sous  the  pound,  and  linen 
to  bleach,  too,  with  one's  feet  in  the  water,  and  the 
sun  on  one's  head,  to  make  up  two  hundred  francs. 
All  Souls  was  come,  and  Uncle  Crucifix  did  noth- 
ing but  promenade  up  and  down  the  little  street, 
with  his  hands  behind  his  back,  like  an  old  basilisk. 

"  This  story  will  end  with  a  bailiff,"  old  Dumb- 
bell went  on  saying  to  Don  Silvestro  and  to  Don 
Giammaria,  the  vicar% 

"  There  will  be  no  need  of  a  bailiff,  Uncle  Cruci- 
fix," said  Padron  'Ntoni,  when  he  was  told  what  old 
Dumb-bell  had  been  saying.  "The  Malavoglia 
have  always  been  honest  people,  and  have  paid 
their  debts  without  the  aid  of  a  bailiff." 

"That  does  not  matter  to  me,"  said  Uncle  Cru- 
cifix, as  he  stood  against  the  wall  of  his  court  meas- 
uring the  cuttings  of  his  vines;  "  I  only  know  I  want 
to  be  paid.'* 

Finally,  through  the  interposition  of  the  vicar, 
Dumb-bell  consented  to  wait  until  Christmas,  tak- 
ing for  interest  that  sixty-five  francs  which  Maruzza 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  77 

had  managed  to  scrape  together  sou  by  sou,  which 
she  kept  in  an  old  stocking  hid  under  the  mattress 
of  her  bed. 

"This  is  the  way  it  goes,"  growled  Padron 
'Ntoni's  'Ntoni ;  "  we  work  night  and  day  for  old 
Crucifix.  When  we  have  managed  to  rake  and 
scrape  a  franc  we  have  to  give  it  to  old  Dumb- 
bell." 

Grandfather,  with  Maruzza,  consoled  each  other 
by  building  castles  in  the  air  for  the  summer,  when 
there  would  be  anchovies  to  be  salted,  and  Indian 
figs  at  ten  for  eight  centimes;  and  they  made  fine 
projects  of  going  to  the  tunny-fishing,  and  the  fish- 
ing for  the  sword-fish — when  one  gains  a  good 
sum  by  the  day  —  and  in  the  mean  time  Cousin 
Bastian  would  have  put  the  Provvidenza  in  order. 
The  boys  listened  attentively,  with  elbows  on  their 
knees,  to  this  discourse,  as  they  sat  on  the  landing, 
or  after  supper;  but  'Ntoni,  who  had  been  in  for- 
eign ports,  and  knew  the  world  better  than  the 
others,  was  not  amused  by  such  talk,  and  preferred 
going  to  lounge  about  the  tavern,  where  there  was 
a  lot  of  people  who  did  nothing,  and  old  Uncle 
Santoro  the  worst  of  them,  who  had  only  that  easy 
trade  of  begging  to  follow,  and  sat  muttering  Ave 
Marias ;  or  he  went  down  to  Master  Zuppiddu's  to 
see  how  the  Provvidenza  was  getting  on,  to  have  a 
little  talk  with  Barbara,  who  came  out  with  fagots 
for  the  fire  under  the  kettle  of  pitch,  when  Cousin 
'Ntoni  was  there. 


78  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE   MEDLAR-TREE. 

"  You're  always  busy,  Cousin  Barbara,"  said 
'Ntoni;  "you're  the  right  hand  of  the  house;  it's 
for  that  your  father  doesn't  want  to  get  you  mar- 
ried." 

"  I  don't  want  to  marry  anybody  who  isn't  my 
equal,"  answered  Barbara.  "  Marry  with  your 
equals  and  stay  with  your  own." 

"  I  would  willingly  stay  with  your  people,  by  Our 
Lady!  if  you  were  willing,  Cousin  Barbara."  - 

"Why  do  you  talk  to  me  in  this  way,  Cousin 
'Ntoni  ?  Mamma  is  spinning  in  the  court ;  she 
will  hear  you." 

"  I  meant  that  those  fagots  are  wet  and  won't 
kindle.  Let  me  do  it." 

"  Is  it  true  you  come  down  here  to  see  the  Man- 
giacarubbe  when  she  comes  to  the  window?" 

"I  come  for  quite  another  reason,  Cousin  Bar- 
bara. I  come  to  see  how  the  Provvidenza  is  get- 
ting on." 

"  She  is  getting  on  very  well,  and  papa  says  that 
by  Christmas  she  will  be  ready  for  sea." 

As  the  Christmas  season  drew  on  the  Mala- 
voglia  were  always  in  and  out  of  Master  Bastiano 
Zuppiddu's  court.  Meanwhile  the  whole  place  was 
assuming  a  festive  appearance;  in  every  house  the 
images  of  the  saints  were  adorned  with  boughs  and 
with  oranges,  and  the  children  ran  about  in  crowds 
after  the  pipers  who  came  playing  before  the  shrines, 
with  the  lamps  before  the  doors  ;  only  in  the  Mala- 
voglia's  house  the  statue  of--  the  Good  Shepherd 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  79 

stood  dark  and  unadorned,  while  Padron  'Ntoni's 
'Ntoni  ran  here  and  there  like  a  rooster  in  the 
spring.  And  Barbara  Zuppidda  said  to  him : 

"At  least  you'll  remember  how  I  melted  the  pitch 
for  the  Provvidenza  when  you're  out  at  sea." 

Goosefoot  prophesied  that  all  the  girls  would 
want  to  rob  her  of  him. 

"  It's  I  who  am  robbed,"  whined  Uncle  Crucifix. 
"  Where  am  I  to  get  the  money  for  the  lupins  if 
'Ntoni  marries,  and  they  take  off  the  dowry  for 
Mena,  and  the  mortgage  that's  on  the  house,  and 
all  the  burdens  besides  that  came  out  at  the  very 
last  minute  ?  Christmas  is  here,  but  no  Mala- 
voglia." 

Padron  'Ntoni  went  to  him  in  the  piazza,  or  in 
his  own  court,  and  said  to  him :  "  What  can  I  do 
if  I  have  no  money  ?  Wait  till  June,  if  you  will  do 
me  that  favor;  or  take  the  boat,  or  the  house ;  I  have 
nothing  else." 

"  I  want  my  money,"  repeated  Uncle  Crucifix, 
with  his  back  against  the  wall.  "You  said  you 
were  honest  people ;  you  can't  pay  me  with  talk 
about  the  Provvidenza^  or  the  house  by  the  medlar- 
tree." 

He  was  ruining  both  body  and  soul,  had  lost  sleep 
and  appetite,  and  wasn't  even  allowed  to  relieve  his 
feelings  by  saying  that  the  end  of  this  story  would 
be  the  bailiff,  because  if  he  did  Padron  'Ntoni  sent 
straightway  Don  Giammaria  or  Don  Silvestro  to 
beg  for  pity  on  him ;  and  they  didn't  even  leave 


8o  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

him  in  peace  in  the  piazza,  where  he  couldn't  go  on 
his  own  business  without  some  one  was  at  his  heels, 
so  that  the  whole  place  cried  out  on  the  devil's 
money.  With  Goosefoot  he  couldn't  talk,  because 
he  always  threw  in  his  face  that  the  lupins  were 
rotten,  and  that  he  had  done  the  broker  for  him. 
"  But  that  service  he  could  do  me !"  said  he,  sud- 
denly, to  himself ;  and  that  night  he  did  not  sleep 
another  wink,  so  charmed  was  he  with  the  discov- 
ery. And  he  went  off  to  Goosefoot  as  soon  as  it 
was  day,  and  found  him  yawning  and  stretching  at 
his  house  door.  "You  must  pretend  to  buy  my 
debt,"  he  said  to  him,  "  and  then  we  can  send  the 
officers  to  Malavoglia,  and  nobody  will  call  you  a 
usurer,  or  say  that  yours  is  the  devil's  money." 

"  Did  this  fine  idea  come  to  you  in  the  night," 
sneered  Goosefoot,  "that  you  come  waking  me  at 
dawn  to  tell  it  me  ?" 

"  I  came  to  tell  you  about  those  cuttings,  too ;  if 
you  want  them  you  may  come  and  take  them." 

"  Then  you  may  send  for  the  bailiff,"  said  Goose- 
foot  ;  "  but  you  must  pay  the  expenses." 

Before  every  house  the  shrines  were  adorned 
with  leaves  and  oranges,  and  at  evening  the  can- 
dles were  lighted,  when  the  pipers  played  and  sang 
litanies,  so  that  it  was  a  festa  everywhere.  The 
boys  played  at  games  with  hazel-nuts  in  the  street; 
and  if  Alessio  stopped,  with  legs  apart,  to  look  on, 
they  said  to  him: 

"  Go  away,  you ;  you  haven't  any  nuts  to  play 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  8 1 

with.       Now    they're    going   to    take    away   your 
house." 

In  fact,  on  Christinas  eve  the  officer  came  in  a 
carriage  to  the  Malavoglia's,  so  that  the  whole  vil- 
lage was  upset  by  it;  and  he  went  and  left  a  paper 
with  a  stamp  on  it  on  the  bureau,  beside  the  image 
of  the  Good  Shepherd. 

The  Malavoglia  seemed  as  if  they  all  had  been 
struck  by  apoplexy  at  once,  and  stayed  in  the  court, 
sitting  in  a  ring,  doing  nothing;  and  that  day  that 
the  bailiff  came  there  was  no  table  set  in  the  house 
of  the  Malavoglia. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  said  La  Longa.  Padron 
'Ntoni  did  not  know  what  to  say,  but  at  last  he  took 
the  paper,  and  went  off  with  his  two  eldest  grand- 
sons to  Uncle  Crucifix,' to  tell  him  to  take  the  Prov- 
videnza,  which  Master  Bastiano  had  just  finished 
mending;  and  the  poor  old  man's  voice  trembled 
as  it  did  when  he  lost  his  son  Bastianazzo.  "  I 
know  nothing  about  it,"  replied  Dumb-bell.  "I 
have  no  more  to  do  with  the  business.  I've  sold 
my  debt  to  Goosefoot,  and  you  must  manage  it  the 
best  way  you  can  with  him." 

Goosefoot  began  to  scratch  his  head  as  soon  as 
he  saw  them  coming  in  procession  to  speak  to  him. 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do?"  answered  he; 
."  I'm  a  poor  devil,  I  need  the  money,  and  I  can't 
do  anything  with  the  boat.  That  isn't  my  trade; 
but  if  Uncle  Crucifix  will  buy  it,  I'll  help  you  to 
sell  it.  I'll  be  back  directly." 
6 


82  THE   HOUSE   BY   THE   MEDLAR-TREE. 

So  the  poor  fellows  sat  on  the  wall,  waiting  and 
casting  longing  glances  down  the  road  where  old 
Goosefoot  had  disappeared,  not  daring  to  look  each 
other  in  the  face.  At  last  he  came  limping  slowly 
along  (he  got  on  fast  enough  when  he  liked,  in  spite 
of  his  crooked  leg).  "  He  says  it's  all  broken,  like 
an  old  shoe;  he  wouldn't  hear  of  taking  it,"  he 
called  out  from  a  distance.  "  I'm  sorry,  but  I  could 
do  nothing."  So  the  Malavoglia  went  off  home 
again  with  their  stamped  paper. 

But  something  had  to  be  done,  for  that  piece 
of  stamped  paper  lying  on  the  bureau  had  power, 
they  had  been  told,  to  devour  the  bureau  and  the 
house,  and  the  whole  family  into  the  bargain. 

"  Here  we  need  advice  from  Don  Silvestro,"  sug- 
gested Maruzza.  "Take  these  two  hens  to  him, 
and  he'll  be  sure  to  know  of  something  you  can  do." 

Don  Silvestro  said  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost, 
and  he  sent  them  to  a  clever  lawyer,  Dr.  Scipione, 
who  lived  in  the  street  of  the  Sick-men,  opposite 
Uncle  Crispino's  stableman d  was  young,  but,  from 
what  he  had  been  told,  had  brains  enough  to  put  in 
his  pocket  all  the  old  fellows,  who  asked  five  scudi 
for  opening  their  mouths,  while  he  was  contented 
with  twenty-five  lire. 

The  lawyer  was  rolling  cigarettes,  and  he  made 
them  come  and  go  two  or  three  times  before  he  would 
let  them  come  in.  The  finest  thing  about  it  was  that 
they  all  went  in  procession,  one  behind  the  other. 
At  first  they  were  accompanied  by  La  Longa,  with 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  83 

her  baby  in  her  arms,  as  she  wished  to  give  her  opin- 
ion, too,  on  the  subject;  and  so  they  lost  a  whole 
day's  work.  When,  however,  the  lawyer  had  read  the 
papers,  and  could  manage  to  understand  something 
of  the  confused  answers  which  he  had  to  tear  as  if 
with  pincers  from  Padron  'Ntoni,  while  the  others 
sat  perched  up  on  their  chairs,  without  daring  even 
to  breathe,  he  began  to  laugh  heartily,  and  the  Ma- 
lavoglia  laughed  too,  with  him,  without  knowing 
why,  just  to  get  their  breath.  "Nothing,"  replied 
the  lawyer;  "you  need  do  nothing."  And  when 
Padron  'Ntoni  told  him  again  that  the  bailiff  had 
come  to  the  house:  "  Let  the  bailiff  come  every  day 
if  he  likes,  so  the  creditors  will  the  sooner  tire  of 
the  expense  of  sending  him.  They  can  take  noth- 
ing from  you,  because  the  house  is 'settled  on  your 
son's  wife ;  and  for  the  boat,  we'll  make  a  claim 
on  the  part  of  Master  Bastiano  Zuppiddu.  Your 
daughter-in-law  did  not  take  part  in  the  purchase 
of  the  lupins."  The  lawyer  went  on  talking  with- 
out drawing  breath,  without  scratching  his  head 
even,  for  more  than  twenty-five  lire,  so  that  Padron 
'Ntoni  and  his  grandson  felt  a  great  longing  to  talk 
too,  to  bring  out  that  fine  defence  of  theirs  of  which 
their  heads  were  full;  and  they  went  away  stunned, 
overpowered  by  all  these  wonderful  things,  rumi- 
nating and  gesticulating  over  the  lawyer's  speech 
all  the  way  home.  Maruzza,  who  hadn't  been  with 
them  that  time,  seeing  them  come  with  bright  eyes 
and  rosy  faces,  felt  herself  relieved  of  a  great 


84  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

weight,  and  with  a  serene  aspect  waited  to  hear 
what  the  advocate  had  said.  But  no  one  said  a 
word,  and  they  all  stood  looking  at  each  other. 

"  Well  ?"  asked  Maruzza,  who  was  dying  of  im- 
patience. 

"  Nothing!  we  need  fear  nothing!"  replied  Padron 
'Ntoni,  tranquilly. 

"And  the  advocate?" 

"  Yes,  the  advocate  says  we  need  fear  nothing." 

"  But  what  did  he  say  ?"  persisted  Maruzza. 

"  Ah,  he  knows  how  to  talk !  A  man  with 
whiskers  !  Blessed  be  those  twenty-five  lire  !" 

"  But  what  did  he  tell  you  to  do  ?" 

The  grandfather  looked  at  the  grandson,  and 
'Ntoni  looked  back  at  his  grandfather.  "  Noth- 
ing," answered  Padron  'Ntoni;  "he  told  us  to  do 
nothing." 

"We  won't  pay  anything,"  cried  'Ntoni,  boldly, 
"because  they  can't  take  either  the  house  or  the 
Provvidenza.  We  don't  owe  them  anything." 

"And  the  lupins  ?" 

"The  lupins!  We  didn't  eat  them,  his  lupins; 
we  haven't  got  them  in  our  pockets.  And  Uncle 
Crucifix  can  take  nothing  from  us ;  the  advocate 
said  so,  said  he  was  spending  money  for  nothing." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  but  Maruzza  was 
still  unconvinced. 

"  So  he  told  you  not  to  pay  ?" 

'Ntoni  scratched  his  head,  and  his  grandfather 
added : 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  85 

"  It's  true,  the  lupins — we  had  them— we  must 
pay  for  them." 

There  was  nothing  to  be  said,  now  that  the  law- 
yer was  no  longer  there ;  they  must  pay.  Padron 
'Ntoni  shook  his  head,  muttering: 

"  Not  that,  not  that !  the  Malavoglia  have  never 
done  that.  Uncle  Crucifix  may  take  the  house  and 
the  boat  and  everything,  but  we  can't  do  that." 

The  poor  old  man  was  confused;  but  his  daugh- 
ter-in-law cried  silently  behind  her  apron. 

"Then  we  must  go  to  Don  Silvestro,"  concluded 
Padron  'Ntoni. 

And  with  one  accord,  grandfather,  grandchildren, 
and  daughter-in-law,  with  the  little  girl,  proceeded 
once  more  in  procession  to  the  house  of  the  com- 
munal secretary,  to  ask  him  how  they  were  to  man- 
age about  paying  the  debt,  and  preventing  Uncle 
Crucifix  from  sending  any  more  stamped  paper  to 
eat  up  the  house  and  the  boat  and  the  family. 

Don  Silvestro,  who  understood  law,  was  amusing 
himself  by  constructing  a  trap-cage,  intended  as  a 
present  for  the  children  of  "  her  ladyship." 

He  did  not  do  as  the  lawyer  did,  he  let  them  talk 
and  talk,  continuing  silently  to  sharpen  his  reeds 
and  fasten  them  into  their  places.  At  last  he  told 
them  what  was  necessary,  "  Well,  now,  if  Madam 
Maruzza  is  willing  to  put  her  hand  to  it,  everything 
may  be  arranged."  The  poor  woman  could  not 
guess  where  she  was  to  put  her  hand.  "  You  must 
put  it  into  the  sale,"  said  Don  Silvestro  to  her, 


86  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

"  and  give  up  your  dotal  mortgage,  although  you 
did  not  buy  the  lupins."  "We  all  bought  the  lu- 
pins together,"  murmured  the  poor  Longa.  "And 
the  Lord  has  punished  us  all  together  by  taking 
away  my  husband." 

The  poor  ignorant  creatures,  motionless  on  their 
chairs,  looked  at  each  other,  and  Don  Silvestro 
laughed  to  himself.  Then  he  sent  for  Uncle  Cru- 
cifix, who  came  gnawing  a  dried  chestnut,  having 
just  finished  his  dinner,  and  his  eyes  were  even 
more  glassy  than  usual.  From  the  very  first  he 
would  listen  to  nothing,  declaring  that  he  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  it,  that  it  was  no  longer  his  affair. 
"I  am  like  the  low  wall  that  everybody  sits  and 
leans  on  as  much  as  he  pleases;  because  I  can't 
talk  like  an  advocate,  and  give  all  my  reasons  prop- 
erly, my  property  is  treated  as  if  I  had  stolen  it." 
And  so  he  went  on  grumbling  and  muttering,  with 
his  back  against  the  wall,  and  his  hands  thrust  into 
his  pockets ;  and  nobody  could  understand  a  word 
he  said,  on  account  of  the  chestnut  which  he  had 
in  his  mouth.  Don  Silvestro  spoiled  a  shirt  by 
sweating  over  the  attempt  to  make  him  understand 
how  the  Malavoglia  were  not  to  be  called  cheats  if 
they  were  willing  to  pay  the  debt,  and  if  the  widow 
gave  up  her  dotal  rights.  The  Malavoglia  would 
be  willing  to  give  up  everything  but  their  shirts 
sooner  than  go  to  law;  but  if  they  were  driven  to 
the  wall  they  might  begin  to  send  stamped  paper 
as  well  as  other  people  ;  Such  things  have  happened 


THE   HOUSE   BY   THE   MEDLAR-TREE.  87  _. 

before  now.  "  In  short,  a  little  charity  one  must 
have,  by  the  holy  devil !  What  will  you  bet  that 
if  you  go  on  planting  your  feet  like  a  mule  in  this 
you  don't  lose  the  whole  thing?" 

And  Uncle  Crucifix  replied,  "  If  you  take  me 
on  that  side  I  haven't  any  more  to  say."  And  he 
promised  to  speak  to  old  Goosefoot.  "  For  friend- 
ship's sake  I  would  make  any  sacrifice."  Padron 
'Ntoni  could  speak  for  him,  how  for  friendship's 
sake  he  had  done  as  much  as  that  and  more ;  and 
he  offered  him  his  open  snuffbox,  and  stroked  the 
baby's  cheek,  and  gave  her  a  chestnut.  "  Don 
Silvestro  knows  my  weakness;  I  don't  know  how 
to  say  no.  This  evening  I'll  speak  to  Goosefoot, 
and  tell  him  to  wait  until  Easter,  if  Cousin  Ma- 
ruzza  will  put  her  hand  to  it."  Cousin  Maruzza 
did  not  know  where  her  hand  was  to  be  put,  but 
said  that  she  was  ready  to  put  it  immediately. 

"  Then  you  can  send  for  those  beans  that  you  said 
you  wanted  to  sow,"  said  Uncle  Crucifix  to  Don 
Silvestro  before  he  went  away. 

"All  right!  all  right!"  replied  Don  Silvestro. 
"We  all  know  that  for  your  friends  you  have  a 
heart  as  big  as  the  sea." 

Goosefoot,  while  any  one  was  by,  wouldn't  hear 
of  any  delay,  and  screamed  and  tore  his  hair  and 
swore  they  wanted  to  reduce  him  to  his  last  shirt, 
and  to  leave  him  without  bread  for  the  winter,  him 
and  his  wife  Grace,  since  they  had  persuaded  him 
to  buy  the  debt  of  the  Malavoglia,  and  that  those 


§S  THE    HOtJSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-IfREE. 

were  five  hundred  lire,  one  better  than  another,  that 
they  had  coaxed  him  out  of,  to  give  them  to  Uncle 
Crucifix.  His  wife  Grace,  poor  thing,  opened  her 
eyes  very  wide,  because  she  couldn't  tell  where  all 
that  money  had  come  from,  and  put  in  a  good  word 
for  the  Malavoglia,  who  were  all  good  people,  and 
everybody  in  the  vicinity  had  always  known  they 
were  honest.  And  Uncle  Crucifix  himself  now  be- 
gan to  take  the  part  of  the  Malavoglia.  "They 
have  said  they  will  pay;  and  if  they  don't  they  will 
let  you  have  the  house;  Madam  Maruzza  will  put 
her  hand  to  it.  Don't  you  know  that  in  these  days 
if  you  want  your  own  you  must  do  the  best  you 
can  ?"  Then  Goosefoot  put  on  his  jacket  in  a  great 
hurry,  and  went  off  swearing  and  blaspheming,  say- 
ing that  his  wife  and  old  Crucifix  might  do  as  they 
pleased,  since  he  was  no  longer  master  in  his  own 
house. 


VIL 

THAT  was  a  black  Christmas  for  the  Malavoglia. 
Just  then  Luca  had  to  draw  his  number  for  the 
conscription — a  low  number,  too,  like  a  poor  devil 
as  he  was — and  he  went  off  without  many  tears ; 
they  were  used  to  it  by  this  time.  This  time,  also, 
'Ntoni  accompanied  his  brother,  with  his  cap  over 
his  ear,  so  that  it  seemed  as  if  it  were  he  who  was 
going  away,  and  he  kept  on  saying  that  it  was  noth- 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  89 

ing,  that  he  had  been  for  a  soldier  himself.  That 
day  it  rained,  and  the  street  was  all  one  puddle. 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  come  with  me,"  repeated 
Luca  to  his  mother;  "the  station  is  a  long  way 
off."  And  he  stood  at  the  door  watching  the  rain 
come  down  on  the  medlar-tree,  with  his  little  bun- 
dle under  his  arm.  Then  he  kissed  the  hands 
of  his  mother  and  his  grandfather,  and  embraced 
Mena  and  the  children. 

So  La  Longa  saw  him  go  away,  under  the  um- 
brella, accompanied  by  all  his  relations,  jumping 
from  stone  to  stone,  in  the  little  alley  that  was  all 
one  puddle ;  and  the  boy,  who  was  as  wise  as  his 
grandfather  himself,  turned  up  his  trousers  on  the 
landing,  although  he  wouldn't  have  to  wear  them 
any  more  when  he  got  his  soldier-clothes.  "This 
one  won't  write  home  fof  money  when  he  is  clown 
there,"  thought  the  old  man ;  "  and  if  God  grants  him 
life  he  will  bring  up  once  more  the  house  by  the 
medlar-tree."  But  God  did  not  grant  him  life,  just 
because  he  was  that  sort  of  a  fellow;  and  when 
there  came,  later  on,  the  news  of  his  death,  a  thorn 
remained  in  his  mother's  heart  because  she  had  let 
him  go  away  in  the  rain,  and  had  not  accompanied 
him  to  the  station. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Luca,  turning  back,  because  his 
heart  bled  to  leave  her  so  silent,  on  the  landing, 
looking  like  Our  Lady  of  Sorrows,  "when  I  come 
back  I'll  let  you  know  first,  and  then  you  can  come 
and  meet  me  at  the  station." 


90  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

And  these  words  Maruzza  never  forgot  while  she 
lived;  and  till  her  death  she  bore  also  that  other 
thorn  in  her  heart,  that  her  boy  had  not  been  pres- 
ent at  the  festa  that  was  made  when  the  Provvi- 
denza  was  launched  anew,  while  all  the  place  was 
there,  and  Barbara  Zuppidda  came  out  with  the 
broom  to  sweep  away  the  shavings.  "  I  do  it  for 
your  sake,"  she  said  to  Padron  'Ntoni's  'Ntoni; 
"because  it  is  your  Providence." 

"  With  the  broom  in  your  hand,  you  look  like 
a  queen,"  replied  'Ntoni.  "  In  all  Trezza  there  is 
not  so  good  a  housewife  as  you." 

"  Now  you  have  taken  away  the  Provvidenza,  we 
shall  not  see  you  here  any  more,  Cousin  'Ntoni." 

"Yes,  you  will.  Besides,  this  is  the  shortest 
way  to  the  beach." 

"You  come  to  see  the  Mangiacarubbe,  who  al- 
ways goes  to  the  window  when  you  pass." 

"  I  leave  the  Mangiacarubbe  for  Rocco  Spatu. 
I  have  other  things  in  my  mind." 

"  Who  knows  what  you  have  in  your  mind — those 
pretty  girls  in  foreign  parts,  perhaps  ?" 

"There  are  pretty  girls  here,  too,  Cousin  Bar- 
bara, and  I  know  one  very  well." 

"Really?" 

"  By  my  soul !" 

"What  do  you  care?" 

"I  care!  Yes,  that  I  do;  but  she  doesn't  care 
for  me,  because  there  are  certain  dandies  who  walk 
under  her  window  with  varnished  boots." 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  91 

"  I  don't  even  look  at  those  varnished  boots,  by 
the  Madonna  of  Ognino !  Mamma  says  that  var- 
nished boots  are  only  fit  to  devour  the  dowry  and 
everything  else;  and  some  fine  day  I  shall  go  out 
with  my  distaff,  and  make  him  a  scene,  that  Don 
Silvestro,  who  won't  leave  me  in  peace." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  seriously,  Cousin  Barbara  ?" 

"  Yes,  indeed  I  do  !" 

"  That  pleases  me  right  well,"  said  'Ntoni. 

"  Listen ;  let's  go  down  to  the  beach  on  Monday, 
when  mamma  goes  to  the  fair." 

"On  Mondays  I  never  shall  have  a  chance 
to  breathe,  now  that  the  Provvidenza  has  been 
launched." 

Scarcely  had  Master  Turi  said  that  the  boat  was 
in  order,  than  Padron  'Ntoni  went  off  to  start  her 
with  his  boys  and  all  the  neighbors ;  and  the  Prov- 
videnza,  when  she  was  going  down  to  the  sea,  rock- 
ed about  on  the  stones  as  if  she  were  sea-sick 
among  the  crowd. 

"  This  way,  here !"  called  out  Cousin  Zuppiddu, 
louder  than  anybody;  but  the  others  shouted  and 
struggled  to  push  her  back  on  the  ways  as  she 
rocked  over  on  the  stones.  "  Let  me  do  it,  or  else 
I'll  just  take  the  boat  up  in  my  arms  like  a  baby, 
and  put  her  in  the  water  myself." 

"  Master  Turi  is  capable  of  doing  it,  with  those 
arms  of  his,"  said  some  one;  or  else,  "Now  the 
Malavoglia  will  be  all  right  again." 

"That  devil  of   a  Cousin  Zuppiddu   has  lucky 


92  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

fingers,"  they  exclaimed.  "  Look  how  he  has  put 
her  straight  again,  when  she  was  like  an  old  shoe." 

And  in  truth  the  Provvidenza  did  seem  quite 
another  boat — -shining  with  new  pitch,  and  with  a 
bright  red  line  along  her  side,  and  on  the  prow  San 
Francesco,  with  his  beard  that  seemed  to  have  been 
made  of  tow,  so  much  so  that  even  La  Longa  had 
made  peace  with  the  Provvidenza,  whom  she  had 
never  forgiven,  for  coming  back  to  her  without  her 
husband;  but  she  made  peace  for  fright,  now  that 
the  bailiff  had  been  in  the  house. 

"Viva  San  Francesco!"  called  out  every  one  as 
the  Provvidenza  passed ;  and  La  Locca's  son  called 
out  louder  than  anybody,  in  the  hope  that  now 
Padron  'Ntoni  would  hire  him  by  the  day,  instead 
of  his  brother  Menico.  Mena  stood  on  the  land- 
ing, and  once  more  she  cried  for  joy;  and,  at  last, 
even  La  Locca  got  up  like  the  rest,  and  followed 
the  Malavoglia. 

"O  Cousin  Mena,  this  is  a  fine  day  for  all  of  you," 
said  Alfio  Mosca  to  her  from  his  window  opposite. 
"  It  will  be  like  this  when  I  can  buy  my  mule." 

"  And  will  you  sell  your  donkey  ?" 

"  How  can  I  ?  I'm  not  rich,  like  Vanni  Pizzuti ; 
if  I  were,  I  swear  I  wouldn't  sell  him,  poor  beast ! 
If  I  had  enough  to  keep  another  person,  I'd  take 
a  wife,  and  not  live  here  alone  like  a  dog." 

Mena  didn't  know  what  to  say,  and  Alfio  added : 

"  Now  that  the  Provvidenza  has  put  to  sea  again, 
you'll  be  married  to  Brasi  Cipolla." 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  93 

"  Grandpapa  has  said  nothing  about  it." 

"  He  will.  There's  still  time.  Between  now  and 
your  marriage  who  knows  how  many  things  may 
happen,  or  by  what  different  roads  I  shall  drive  my 
cart  ?  I  have  been  told  that  in  the  plain,  at  the 
other  side  of  the  town,  there  is  work  for  everybody 
on  the  railroad.  Now  that  Santuzza  has  arranged 
with  Master  Philip  for  the  new  wine,  there  is  noth- 
ing to  be  done  here." 

Meanwhile  the  Provvidenza  had  slipped  into  the 
sea  like  a  duck,  with  her  beak  in  the  air,  and  danced 
on  the  green  water,  enjoying  its  coolness,  while  the 
sun  glanced  on  her  shining  side.  Padron  'Ntoni 
enjoyed  it,  too,  with  his  hands  behind  his  back,  and 
his  legs  apart,  drawing  his  brows  together,  as  sail- 
ors do  when  they  want  to  see  clearly  in  the  sun- 
shine; for  it  was  a  fine  winter's  day,  and  the  fields 
were  green  and  the  sea  shining  and  the  deep  blue 
sky  had  no  end.  So  return  the  sunshine  and  the 
sweet  winter  mornings  for  the  eyes  that  have  wept, 
to  whom  the  sky  has  seemed  black  as  pitch;  and 
:so  all  things  renew  themselves  like  the  Provvidenza, 
for  which  a  few  pounds  of  tar  and  a  handful  of 
boards  sufficed  to  make  her  new  once  more;  and 
the  eyes  that  see  not  these  things  are  those  that 
are  done  with  weeping  and  are  closed  in  death. 

"  Bastianazzo  is  not  here  to  see  this  holiday !" 
thought  Maruzza,  as  she  went  to  and  fro,  arranging 
things  in  the  house  and  about  the  loom — where 
almost  everything  had  been  her  husband's  work 


94  THE   HOUSE   BY   THE   MEDLAR-TREE. 

on  Sundays  or  rainy  clays — and  those  hooks  and 
shelves  he  had  fixed  in  the  wall  with  his  own  hands. 
Everything  in  the  house  was  full  of  him,  from  his 
water-proof  cape  in  the  corner  to  his  boots  under 
the  bed,  that  were  almost  new.  Mena,  setting  up 
the  warp,  had  a  sad  heart,  too,  for  she  was  think- 
ing of  Alfio,  who  was  going  away,  and  would  have 
sold  his  donkey,  poor  beast !  for  the  young  have 
short  memories,  and  have  only  eyes  for  the  rising 
sun;  and  no  one  looks  westward  save  the  old,  who 
have  seen  the  sun  rise  and  set  so  many  times. 

"  Now  that  the  Provvidenza  has  put  to  sea  again," 
said  Maruzza  at  last,  noticing  that  her  daughter 
was  still  pensive,  "your  grandfather  has  begun  to 
go  with  Master  Cipolla  again;  I  saw  them  this  morn- 
ing, from  the  landing,  before  Peppi  Naso's  shed." 

"  Padron  Fortunato  is  rich,  and  has  nothing  to 
do,  and  stays  all  day  in  the  piazza,"  answered  Mena. 

"Yes,  and  his  son  Brasi  has  plenty  of  the  gifts 
of  God.  Now  that  we  have  our  boat,  and  our  men 
no  longer  need  to  go  out  by  the  day  to  work  for 
others,  we  shall  get  out  of  this  tangle;  and  if  the 
souls  in  Purgatory  will  help  us  to  get  rid  of  the 
debt  for  the  lupins,  we  shall  be  able  to  think  of 
other  things.  Your  grandfather  is  wide-awake, 
don't  you  fear,  and  he  won't  let  you  feel  that  you 
have  lost  your  father.  He  will  be  another  father 
to  you." 

Shortly  after  arrived  Padron  'Ntoni,  loaded  with 
nets,  so  that  he  looked  like  a  mountain,  and  you 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  95 

couldn't  see  his  face.  "  IVe  been  to  get  them  out 
of  the  bark,"  he  said,  "  and  I  must  look  over  the 
meshes,  for  to-morrow  we  must  rig  the  Provvidenza" 

"  Why  did  you  not  get  'Ntoni  to  help  you  ?"  an- 
swered Maruzza,  pulling  at  one  end  of  the  net, 
while  the  old  man  turned  round  in  the  middle  of 
the  court,  like  a  winder,  to  unwind  the  nets,  which 
seemed  to  have  no  end,  and  looked  like  a  great 
serpent  trailing  along. 

"  I  left  him  there  at  the  barber's  shop;  poor  boy, 
he  has  to  work  all  the  week,  and  it  is  hot  even  in 
January  with  all  this  stuff  on  one's  shoulders." 

Alessio  laughed  to  see  his  grandfather  so  red, 
and  bent  round  like  a  fish-hook,  and  the  grandsire 
said  to  him,  "  Look  outside  there ;  there  is  that  poor 
Locca;  her  son  is  in  the  piazza,  with  nothing  to 
do,  and  they  have  nothing  to  eat."  Maruzza  sent 
Alessio  to  La  Locca  with  some  beans,  and  the  old 
man,  drying  his  forehead  with  the  sleeve  of  his 
shirt,  added: 

"  Now  that  we  have  our  boat,  if  we  live  till  sum- 
mer, with  the  help  of  God,  we'll  pay  the  debt." 

He  had  no  more  to  say,  but  sat  under  the  medlar- 
tree  looking  at  his  nets,  as  if  he  saw  them  filled 
with  fish. 

"Now  we  must  lay  in  the  salt,"  he  said  after  a 
while,  "  before  they  raise  the  tax,  if  it  is  true  it  is  to 
be  raised.  Cousin  Zuppiddu  must  be  paid  with  the 
first  money  we  get,  and  he  has  promised  that  he 
will  then  furnish  the  barrels  on  credit." 


96  THE   HOUSE    BY    THE   MEDLAR-TREE. 

"  In  the  chest  of  drawers  there  is  Mena's  linen, 
which  is  worth  five  scudi,"  added  Maruzza. 

"  Bravo !  With  old  Crucifix  I  won't  make  any 
more  debts,  because  I  have  had  a  warning  in  the 
affair  of  the  lupins;  but  he  will  give  us  thirty  francs 
for  the  first  time  we  go  out  with  the  Provvidenza" 

"  Let  him  alone !"  cried  La  Longa.  "  Uncle 
Crucifix's  money  brings  ill  luck.  Just  this  last 
night  I  heard  the  black  hen  crowing." 

"  Poor  thing !"  cried  the  old  man,  smiling  as  he 
watched  the  black  hen  crossing  the  court,  with  her 
tail  in  the  air  and  her  crest  on  one  side,  as  if  the 
whole  affair  were  no  business  of  hers.  "  She  lays 
an  egg  every  day,  all  the  same." 

Then  Mena  spoke  up,  and  coming  to  the  door, 
said,  "  There  is  a  basketful  of  eggs,  and  on  Mon- 
day, if  Cousin  Alfio  goes  to  Catania,  you  can  send 
them  to  market." 

"Yes,  they  will  help  to  pay  the  debt,"  said  Pa- 
dron  'Ntoni;  "but  you  can  eat  an  egg  yourselves 
now  and  then  if  you  feel  to  want  it" 

"No,  we  don't  need  them,"  said  Maruzza,  and 
Mena  added,  "  If  we  eat  them  they  won't  be  sold 
in  the  market  by  Cousin  Alfio;  and  now  we  will 
put  duck's  eggs  under  the  setting  hen.  The  duck- 
lings can  be  sold  for  forty  centimes  each."  Her 
grandfather  looked  her  in  the  face,  and  said : 

"  You're  a  real  Malavoglia,  my  girl !" 

The  hens  scratched  in  the  sand  of  the  court,  in 
the  sun,  and  the  setting  hen,  looking  perfectly  silly, 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  97 

with  the  feather  over  her  beak,  shook  herself  in 
a  corner.;  under  the  green  boughs  in  the  garden, 
along  the  wall,  there  was  more  linen  bleaching, 
with  a  stone  lying  on  it  to  keep  it  from  blowing 
away.  "All  this  is  good  to  make  money,"  said  Pa- 
dron  'Ntoni,  "  and,  with  the  help  of  God,  we  shall 
stay  in  our  house.  '  My  house  is  my  mother.'  " 

"Now  the  Malavoglia  must  pray  to  God  and 
Saint  Francis  for  a  plentiful  fishing,"  said  Goose- 
foot  meanwhile. 

"Yes,  with  the  times  we're  having,"  exclaimed 
Padron  Cipolla,  "  they  must  have  sown  the  cholera 
for  the  fish  in  the  sea,  I  should  think." 

Mangiacarubbe  nodded,  and  Uncle  Cola  began 
to  talk  of  the  tax  that  they  wanted  to  put  on  salt, 
and  how,  if  they  did  that,  the  anchovies  might  be 
quiet,  and  fear  no  longer  the  wheels  of  the  steam- 
ers, for  no  one  would  find  it  worth  his  while  to  fish 
for  them  any  more. 

"And  they  have  invented  something  else,"  added 
Master  Turi,  the  calker:  "to  put  a  duty  on  pitch." 
Those  to  whom  pitch  was  of  no  importance  had 
nothing  to  say,  but  Zuppiddu  went  on  shouting  that 
he  should  shut  up  shop,  and  whoever  wanted  a  boat 
mended  might  stuff  the  hole  with  his  wife's  dress. 
Then  they  began  to  scold  and  to  swear. 

At  this  moment  was  heard  the  scream  of  the  en- 
gine, and  the  big  wagons  of  the  railway  came  rush- 
ing out  all  of  a  sudden  from  the  hole  they  had 
made  in  the  hill,  smoking  and  fuming  as  -if  the 
7 


98  THE    HOUSE   BY   THE   MEDLAR-TREE. 

devil  was  in  them.  "  There !"  cried  Padron  Fortu- 
nate, "  the  railroad  one  side  and  the  steamers  the 
other,  upon  my  word  it's  impossible  to  live  in  peace 
at  Trezza  nowadays." 

In  the  village  there  was  the  devil  to  pay  when 
they  wanted  to  put  the  tax  upon  pitch.1*  La  Zup- 
pidda,  foaming  at  the  mouth,  mounted  upon  her 
balcony,  and  went  on  preaching  that  this  was  some 
new  villany  of  Don  Silvestro,  who  wanted  to  bring 
the  whole  place  to  ruin,  because  they  (the  Zup- 
piddus)  wouldn't  have  him  for  a  husband  for  their 
daughter;  they  wouldn't  have  him  even  for  a  com- 
panion in  the  procession,  neither  she  nor  her  girl ! 
When  Madam  Venera  spoke  of  her  daughter's  hus- 
band it  always  seemed  as  if  she  herself  were  the 
bride. 

Master  Tun  Zuppiddu  tramped  about  the  land- 
ing, mallet  in  hand,  brandishing  his  chisel  as  if  he 
wanted  to  shed  somebody's  blood,  and  wasn't  to  be 
held  even  by  chains.  The  bile  ran  high  from  door 
to  door,  like  the  waves  of  the  sea  in  a  storm.  Don 
Franco  rubbed  his  hands,  with  his  great  ugly  hat 
on  his  head,  saying  that  the  people  was  raising  its 
head;  and  seeing  Don  Michele  pass  with  pistols 
hanging  at  his  belt,  laughed  in  his  face.  The  men, 
too,  one  by  one,  allowed  themselves  to  be  worked 
up  by  their  womankind,  and  began  hunting  each 

*  Ddzio  (French,  octroi],  tax  on  substances  entering  a  town, 
levied  by  the  town-council. 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  99 

other  up,  to  try  and  rouse  each  other  to  fury,  los- 
ing the  whole  day  standing  about  in  the  piazza, 
with  arms  akimbo  and  open  mouths,  listening  to 
the  apothecary,  who  went  on  speechifying,  but  un- 
der his  breath,  for  fear  of  his  wife  up-stairs,  how 
they  ought  to  make  a  revolution  if  they  weren't 
fools,  and  not  to  mind  the  tax  on  salt  or  the  tax 
on  pitch,  but  to  clear  off  the  whole  thing,  for  the 
king  ought  to  be  the  people.  Instead,  some  turn- 
ed their  backs,  muttering,  "  He  wants  to  be  king 
himself;  the  druggist  belongs  to  those  of  the  rev- 
olution who  want  to  starve  the  poor  people."  And 
they  went  off  to  the  inn  to  Santuzza,  where  there 
was  good  wine  to  heat  one's  head,  and  Master 
Cinghialenta  and  Rocco  Spatu  made  noise  enough 
for  ten. 

The  good  wine  made  them  shout,  and  shouting 
made  them  thirsty  (for  the  tax  had  not  yet  been 
raised  on  the  wine),  and  such  as  had  much  shook 
their  fists  in  the  air,  with  shirt- sleeves  rolled  up, 
raging  even  at  the  flies. 

Vanni  Pizzuti  had  closed  his  shop  door  because 
no  one  came  to  be  shaved,  and  went  about  with  his 
razor  in  his  pocket,  calling  out  bad  names  from 
a  distance,  and  spitting  at  those  who  went  about 
their  own  business  with  oars  on  their  backs,  shrug- 
ging their  shoulders  at  the  noise. 

Uncle  Crucifix  (who  was  one  of  those  who  at- 
tended to  their  own  affairs,  and  when  they  drew 
his  blood  with  taxes,  held  his  tongue  for  fear  of 


100  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

worse,  and  kept  his  bile  inside  of  him)  was  never 
seen  in  the  piazza  now,  leaning  against  the  wall  of 
the  bell-tower,  but  kept  inside  his  house,  reciting 
Pater-nosters  and  Ave  Marias  to  keep  down  his 
rage  against  those  who  were  making  all  the  row — a 
lot  of  fellows  who  wanted  to  put  the  place  to  sack, 
and  to  rob  everybody  who  had  twenty  centimes  in 
his  pocket. 

Whoever,  like  Padron  Cipolla,  or  Master  Filippo, 
the  ortolano,  had  anything  to  lose  stayed  shut  up 
at  home  with  doors  bolted,  and  didn't  put  out  even 
their  noses;  so  that  Brasi  Cipolla  got  a  rousing  cuff 
from  his  father,  who  found  him  at  the  door  of  the: 
court,  staring  into  the  piazza  like  a  great  stupid 
codfish.  The  big  fish  stayed  under  water  while  the 
waves  ran  high,  and  did  not  make  their  appearance, 
not  even  those  who  were,  as  Venera  said,  fish- 
heads,  but  left  the  syndic  with  his  nose  in  the  air, 
counting  his  papers.  f 

"  Don't  you  see  that  they  treat  you  like  a  pup- 
pet?" screamed  his  daughter  Betta,  with  her  hands 
on  her  hips.  "  Now  that  they  have  got  you  into  a 
scrape,  they  turn  their  backs  on  you,  and  leave  you 
alone  wallowing  in  the  mud;  that's  what  it  means 
to  let  one's  self  be  led  by  the  nose  by  that  meddling 
Don  Silvestro." 

"  I'm  not  led  by  the  nose  by  anybody,"  shouted 
the  Silk-worm.  "  It  is  I  who  am  syndic,  not  Don 
Silvestro." 

Don  Silvestro,  on  the  contrary,  said  the  real  syn- 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  IOI 

die  was  his  daughter  Betta,  and  that  Master  Croce 
Calta  wore  the  breeches  by  mistake.  He  still 
went  about  and  about,  with  that  red  face  of  his, 
and  Rocco  Spatu  and  Cinghialenta,  when  they  saw 
him,  went  into  the  tavern  for  fear  of  a  mess,  and 
Vanni  Pizzuti  •  swore  loudly,  tapping  his  razor  in 
his  breeches-pocket  all  the  time.  Don  Silvestro, 
without  noticing  them,  went  to  say  a  word  or  two 
to  Uncle  Santoro,  and  put  two  centimes  into  his 
hand. 

"The  Lord  be  praised!"  cried  the  blind  man. 
"  This  is  Don  Silvestro,  the  secretary ;  none  of 
these  others  that  come  here  roaring  and  thumping 
their  stomachs  ever  give  a  centime  in  alms  for  the 
souls  in  Purgatory,  and  they  go  saying  they  mean 
to  kill  your  syndic  and  the  secretary;  Vanni  Piz- 
zuti said  it,  and  Rocco  Spatu  and  Master  Cinghia- 
lenta. Vanni  Pizzuti  has  taken  to  going  without 
shoes,  not  to  be  known;  but  I  know  his  step  all 
the  same,  for  he  drags  his  feet  along  the  ground, 
and  raises  the  dust  like  a  flock  of  sheep  passing  by." 

"  What  is  it  to  you  ?"  cried  his  daughter,  when 
Don  Silvestro  was  gone.  "These  affairs  are  no 
business  of  ours.  The  inn  is  like  a  seaport — men 
come  and  go,  and  one  must  be  friendly  with  all  and 
faithful  to  none,  for  that  each  one  has  his  own  soul 
for  himself,  and  each  must  look  out  for  his  own  in- 
terests, and  not  make  rash  speeches  about  other 
people.  Cousin  Cinghialenta  and  Rocco  Spatu 
spend  money  in  our  house.  T  don't  speak  of  Piz- 


102  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

zuti,  who  sells  absinthe,  and  tries  to  get  away  our 
customers." 

Cousin  Mosca  was  among  those  who  minded 
their  own  business,  and  passed  tranquilly  through 
the  piazza  with  his  cart,  amid  the  crowd,  who  were 
shaking  their  fists  in  the  air. 

"'Don't  you  care  whether  they  put  on  the  hide 
tax  ?"  asked  Mena  when  she  saw  him  come  back 
with  his  poor  donkey  panting  and  with  drooped  ears. 

"Yes,  of  course  I  care;  but  to  pay  the  tax  the 
cart  must  go,  or  they'll  take  away  the  ass,  and  the 
cart  as  well." 

"  They  say  they're  going  to  kill  them  all.  Grand- 
papa told  us  to  keep  the  door  shut,  and  not  to  open 
it  unless  they  come  back.  Will  you  go  out  to- 
morrow too  ?" 

"  I  must  go  and  take  a  load  of  lime  for  Master 
Croce  Calta." 

"  Oh,  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  Don't  you 
know  he's  the  syndic,  and  they'll  kill  you  too  ?" 

"  He  doesn't  care  for  them,  he  says.  He's  a 
mason,  and  he  has  to  strengthen  the  wall  of  Don 
Filippo's  vineyard ;  and  if  they  won't  have  the  tax 
on  pitch  Don  Silvestro  must  think  of  something 
else." 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  it  was  all  Don  Silvestro's 
fault?"  cried  Mammy  Venera,  who  was  always  about 
blowing  up  the  fires  of  discord,  with  her  distaff  in 
her  hand.  "  It's  all  the  affair  of  that  lot,  who 
have  nothing  to  lose,  and  who  don't  pay  a  tax  on 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  103 

pitch  because  they  never  had  so  much  as  an  old 
broken  board  at  sea.  It  is  all  the  fault  of  Don 
Silvestro,"  she  went  on  screeching  to  everybody  all 
over  the  place,  "  and  of  that  meddling  scamp  Goose- 
foot,  who  have  no  boat,  either  of  them,  and  live  on 
their  neighbors,  and  hold  out  the  hat  to  first  one 
and  then  another.  Would  you  like  to  know  one 
of  his  tricks  ?  It  isn't  a  bit  true  that  he  has  bought 
the  debt  of  Uncle  Crucifix.  It's  all  a  lie,  got  up 
between  him  and  old  Dumb-bell  to  rob  those  poor 
creatures.  Goosefoot  never  even  saw  five  hundred 
francs." 

Don  Silvestro,  to  hear  what  they  said  of  him, 
went  often  to  the  tavern  to  buy  a  cigar,  and  then 
Rocco  Spatu  and  Vanni  Pizzuti  would  come  out 
of  it  blaspheming ;  or  he  would  stop  on  the  way 
home  from  his  vineyard  to  talk  with  Uncle  Santoro, 
and  heard  in  this  way  all  the  tale  of  the  fictitious 
purchase  by  Goosefoot ;  but  he  was  a  "  Christian  " 
with  a  stomach  as  deep  as  a  well,  and  all  things 
he  left  to  sink  into  it.  He  knew  his  own  business, 
and  when  Betta  met  him  with  his  mouth  open 
worse  than  a  mad  dog,  and  Master  Croce  Calta  let 
slip  his  usual  expression,  that  it  didn't  matter  to 
him,  he  replied,  "  What'll  you  bet  I  don't  just  go 
off  and  leave  you?"  And  went  no  more  to  the  syn- 
dic's house ;  but  on  the  Sunday  appointed  for  the 
meeting  of  the  council  Don  Silvestro,  after  the 
mass,  went  and  planted  himself  in  the  town-hall, 
where  there  had  formerly  been  the  post  of  the  Na- 


104  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

tional  Guard,  and  began  tranquilly  mending  his 
pens  in  front  of  the  rough  pine  table  to  pass  away 
the  time,  while  La  Zuppidda  and  the  other  gossips 
vociferated  in  the  street,  while  spinning  in  the  sun, 
swearing  that  they  would  tear  out  the  eyes  of  the 
whole  lot  of  them. 

Silk-worm,  as  they  had  come  all  the  way  to  Master 
Filippo's  vineyard  to  call  him,  couldn't  do  less  than 
move.  So  he  put  on  his  new  overcoat,  washed  his 
hands,  and  brushed  the  lime  off  his  clothes,  but 
wouldn't  go  to  the  meeting  without  first  calling  for 
Don  Stefano  to  come  to  him.  It  was  in  vain  that 
his  daughter  Betta  took  him  by  the  shoulders,  and 
pushed  him  out  of  the  door,  saying  to  him  that 
they  who  had  cooked  the  broth  ought  to  eat  it, 
and  that  he  ought  to  let  the  others  do  as  they 
liked,  that  he  might  remain  syndic.  This  time  Mas- 
ter Calta  had  seen  the  crowd  before  the  town-hall, 
distaffs  in  hand,  and  he  planted  his  feet  on  the 
ground  worse  than  a  mule.  "  I  won't  go  unless 
Don  Silvestro  comes,"  he  repeated,  with  eyes  start- 
ing out  of  his  head.  "  Don  Silvestro  will  find  some 
way  out  of  it  all.". 

At  last  Don  Silvestro  came,  with  a  face  like  a 
wall,  humming  an  air,  with  his  hands  behind  his 
back.  "  Eh,  Master  Croce,  don't  lose  your  head ; 
the  world  isn't  going  to  come  to  an  end  this  time !" 
Master  Croce  let  himself  be  led  away  by  Don  Sil- 
vestro, and  placed  before  the  pine  council -table, 
with  the  glass  inkstand  in  front  of  him ;  but  there 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  105 

was  no  council,  except  Peppi  Naso,  the  butcher,  all 
greasy  and  red -faced,  who  feared  nobody  in  the 
world,  and  Messer  Tino  Piedipassera  (Goosefoot). 

"They  have  nothing  to. lose,"  screamed  La  Zup- 
pidda  from  the  door,  "  and  they  come  here  to  suck 
the  blood  of  the  poor,  worse  than  so  many  leeches, 
because  they  live  upon  their  neighbors,  and  hold 
the  sack  for  this  one  and  that  one  to  commit  all 
sorts  of  villanies.  A  lot  of  thieves  and  assassins." 

"  See  if  I  don't  slit  your  tongue  for  you !"  shout- 
ed Goosefoot,  beginning  to  rise  from  behind  the 
pine-wood  table. 

"  Now  we  shall  come  to  grief !"  muttered  Master 
Croce  Giufa. 

"  I  say  !  I  say  !  what  sort  of  manners  are  these  ? 
You're  not  in  the  piazza,"  called  out  Don  Silvestro. 
"What  will  you  bet  I  don't  kick  out  the  whole  of 
you  ?  Now  I  shall  put  this  to  rights." 

La  Zuppidda  screamed  that  she  wouldn't  have  it 
put  to  rights,  and  struggled  with  Don  Silvestro, 
who  pulled  her  by  the  hair,  and  at  last  ended  by 
thrusting  her  inside  her  own  gate.  When  they 
were  at  last  alone  he  began : 

"  What  is  it  you  want  ?  What  is  it  to  you  if  we 
put  a  tax  on  pitch  ?  It  isn't  you  or  your  husband 
that  will  have  to  pay  it,  but  those  who  come  to  have 
their  boats  mended.  Listen  to  me  :  your  husband 
is  an  ass  to  make  all  this  row  and  to  quarrel  with 
the  town-council,  now  when  there  is  another  coun- 
cillor to  be  chosen  in  the  room  of  Padron  Cipolla 


106  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

or  Master  Mariano,  who  are  of  no  use,  and  your 
husband  might  come  in." 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it,"  answered  La  Zuppid- 
da,  becoming  quite  calm  in  an  instant.  "  I  never 
mix  myself  up  in  my  husband's  affairs.  I  know 
he's  biting  his  hands  with  rage.  I  can  do  nothing 
but  go  and  tell  him,  if  the  thing  is  certain." 

"  Certain?  of  course  it  is — certain  as  the  heavens 
above,  I  tell  you  !  Are  we  honest  men  or  not  ?  By 
the  holy  big  devil !" 

La  Zuppidda  went  straight  off  to  her  husband, 
who  was  crouching  in  the  corner  of  the  court  card- 
ing tow,  pale  as  a  corpse,  swearing  that  they'd  end 
by  driving  him  to  do  something  mad.  To  open 
the  sanhedrim  and  try  if  the  fish  would  bite,  there 
were  still  wanting  Padron  Fortunato  Cipolla  and 
Master  Filippo,  the  market-gardener,  who  stayed 
away  so  long  that  the  crowd  began  to  get  bored — 
so  much  so  that  the  gossips  began  to  spin,  sitting 
on  the  low  wall  of  the  town-hall  yard.  At  last 
they  sent  word  that  they  couldn't  come ;  they  had 
too  much  to  do ;  the  tax  might  be  levied  just  as 
well  without  them. 

"Word  for  word  what  my  daughter  Betta  said," 
growled  Master  Croce  Giufa. 

"Then  get  your  daughter  Betta  to  help  you," 
exclaimed  Don  Silvestro.  Silk-worm  said  not  an- 
other word  audibly,  but  continued  to  mutter  be- 
tween his  teeth. 

"Now,"  said  Don  Silvestro,  "you'll  see  that  the 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  107 

Zuppiddi  will  come  and  ask  me  to  take  their 
daughter  Barbara,  but  they'll  have  to  go  on  ask- 
ing." 

The  meeting  was  closed  without  deciding  upon 
anything.  The  clerk  wanted  time  to  get  up  his 
subject.  In  the  mean  while  the  clock  struck  twelve, 
and  the  gossips  quickly  disappeared.  The  few  that 
stayed  long  enough  to  see  Master  Cirino  shut  the 
door  and  put  the  key  in  his  pocket  went  away  to 
their  own  work,  some  this  way,  some  that,  talking 
as  they  went  of  the  dreadful  things  that  Goosefoot 
and  La  Zuppidda  had  been  saying.  In  the  even- 
ing Padron  'Ntoni's  'Ntoni  heard  of  this  bad  lan- 
guage, and,  "  Sacrament !"  if  he  wouldn't  show 
Goosefoot  that  he  had  been  for  a  soldier !  He  met 
him,  just  as  he  was  coming  from  the  beach,  near  the 
house  of  the  Zuppiddi,  with  that  devil's  club-foot  of 
his,  and  began  to  speak  his  mind  to  him — that  he 
was  a  foul-mouthed  old  carrion,  and  that  he  had 
better  take  care  what  he  said  of  the  Zuppiddi ;  that 
their  doings  was  no  affair  of  his.  Goosefoot  didn't 
keep  his  tongue  to  himself  either. 

"  Holloa  !  do  you  think  you've  come  from  foreign 
parts  to  play  the  master  here?" 

"  I've  come  to  slit  your  weasand  for  you  if  you 
don't  hold  your  tongue !" 

Hearing  the  noise,  a  crowd  of  people  came  to  the 
doors,  and  a  great  crowd  gathered ;  so  that  at  last 
they  took  hold  of  each  other,  and  Goosefoot,  who 
was  sharp  as  the  devil  he  resembled,  flung  him- 


108  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

self  on  the  ground  all  in  a  heap  with  'Ntoni  Mala- 
voglia,  who  thus  lost  all  the  advantage  which  his 
good  legs  might  have  given  him,  and  they  rolled 
over  and  over  in  the  mud,  beating  and  biting  each 
other  as  if  they  had  been  Peppi  Naso's  dogs,  so 
that  'Ntoni  had  to  be  pulled  into  the  Zuppiddi's 
court  with  his  shirt  torn  off  his  back,  and  Goose- 
foot  was  led  home  bleeding  like  Lazarus. 

"  You'll  see !"  screamed  out  again  Gossip  Vene- 
ra,  after  she  had  slammed  the  door  in  the  faces  of 
her  neighbors — "you'll  see  whether  I  mean  to  be 
mistress  in  my  own  house.  I'll  give  my  girl  to 
whomsoever  I  please !" 

The  girl  ran  off  into  the  house,  red  as  a  turkey, 
with  her  heart  beating  as  fast  as  a  spring  chicken's. 

"He's  almost  pulled  off  your  ear!"  said  Master 
Bastiano,  as  he  poured  water  slowly  over  'Ntoni's 
head ;  "  bites  worse  than  a  dog,  does  Uncle  Tino." 
'Ntoni's  eyes  were  still  full  of  blood,  and  he  was 
set  upon  vengeance. 

"  Listen,  Madam  Venera !"  he  said,  in  the  hearing 
of  all  the  world.  "  If  your  daughter  doesn't  take 
me,  I'll  never  marry  anybody."  And  the  girl  heard 
him  in  her  chamber. 

"  This  is  no  time  to  speak  of  such  things,  Cousin 
'Ntoni ;  but  if  your  grandfather  has  no  objection, 
I  wouldn't  change  you,  for  my  part,  for  Victor  Em- 
manuel himself." 

Master  Zuppiddu,  meanwhile,  said  not  a  word, 
but  handed  'Ntoni  a  towel  to  dry  himself  with  ;  so 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  109 

that  'Ntoni  went  home  that  night  in  a  high  state 
of  contentment. 

But  the  poor  Malavoglia,  when  they  heard  of  the 
fight  with  Goosefoot,  trembled  to  think  how  they 
might  at  any  moment  expect  the  officer  to  turn 
them  out-of-doors ;  for  Goosefoot  lived  close  by,  and 
of  the  money  for  the  debt  they  had  only,  after  end- 
less trouble,  succeeded  in  putting  together  about 
half. 

"  Look  what  it  means  to  be  always  hanging  about 
where  there's  a  marriageable  girl !"  said  La  Longa 
to  'Ntoni.  "  I'm  sorry  for  Barbara  !" 

"And  I  mean  to  marry  her,"  said  'Ntoni. 

"To  marry  her!"  cried  the  grandfather.  "And 
who  am  I  ?  And  does  your  mother  count  for  noth- 
ing ?  When  your  father  married  her  that  sits  there, 
he  made  them  come  and  tell  me  first.  Your  grand- 
mother was  then  alive,  and  they  came  and  spoke  to 
us  in  the  garden  under  the  fig-tree.  Now  these 
things  are  no  longer  the  custom,  and  the  old  people 
are  of  no  use.  At  one  time  it  was  said,  *  Listen  to 
the  old,  and  you'll  make  no  blunders.'  First  your 
sister  Mena  must  be  married — do  you  know  that  ?" 

"  Cursed  is  my  fate  !"  cried  'Ntoni,  stamping  and 
tearing  his  hair.  "  Working  all  day !  Never  going 
to  the  tavern !  Never  a  soldo  in  one's  pocket ! 
Now  that  I've  found  a  girl  to  suit  me,  I  can't  have 
her  !  Why  did  I  come  back  from  the  army  ?" 

"  Listen !"  cried  old  'Ntoni,  rising  slowly  and 
painfully  in  consequence  of  the  racking  pain  in  his 


110  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

back.  "Go  to  bed  and  to  sleep — that's  the  best 
thing  for  you  to  do.  You  should  never  speak  in 
that  way  in  your  mother's  presence." 

"  My  brother  Luca,  that's  gone  for  a  soldier,  is 
better  off  than  I  am,"  growled  'Ntoni  as  he  went 
off  to  bed. 


VIII. 

LUCA,  poor  fellow,  was  neither  better  off  nor 
worse.  He  did  his  duty  abroad,  as  he  had  done  it 
at  home,  and  was  content.  He  did  not  often  write, 
certainly — the  stamps  cost  twenty  centimes  each — 
nor  had  he  sent  his  portrait,  because  from  his  boy- 
hood he  had  been  teased  about  his  great  ass's  ears  ; 
instead,  he  every  now  and  then  sent  a  five-franc 
note,  which  he  made  out  to  earn  by  doing  odd  jobs 
for  the  officers.  The  grandfather  had  said,  "  Mena 
must  be  married  first."  It  was  not  yet  spoken  of, 
but  thought  of  always,  and  now  that  the  money  was 
accumulating  in  the  drawer,  he  considered  that  the 
anchovies  would  cover  the  debt  to  Goosefoot,  and 
the  house  remain  free  for  the  dowry  of  the  girl. 
Wherefore  he  was  seen  sometimes  talking  quietly 
with  Padron  Fortunato  on  the  beach  while  waiting 
for  the  bark,  or  sitting  in  the  sun  on  the  church 
steps  when  no  one  else  was  there. 

Padron  Fortunato  had  no  wish  to  go  back  from 
his  word  if  the  girl  had  her  dowry,  the  more  that 
his  son  always  was  causing  him  anxiety  by  running 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  Ill 

after  a  lot  of  penniless  girls,  like  a  stupid  as  he 
was.  "  The  man  has  his  word,  and  the  bull  has  his 
horns,"  he  took  to  repeating  again.  Mena  had 
often  a  heavy  heart  as  she  sat  at  the  loom,  for  girls 
have  quick  senses.  And  now  that  her  grandfather 
was  always  with  Padron  Fortunato,  and  she  so  often 
heard  the  name  Cipolla  mentioned  in  the  house,  it 
seemed  as  if  she  had  the  same  sight  forever  before 
her,  as  if  that  blessed  Christian  Cousin  Alfio  were 
nailed  to  the  beams  of  the  loom  like  the  pictures  of 
the  saints.  One  evening  she  waited  until  it  was 
quite  late  to  see  Cousin  Alfio  come  back  with  his 
donkey-cart,  holding  her  hands  under  her  apron,  for 
it  was  cold  and  all  the  doors  were  shut,  and  not  a 
soul  was  to  be  seen  in  the  little  street;  so  she  said 
good-evening  to  him  from  the  door. 

"  Will  you  go  down  to  Biccocca  at  the  first  of  the 
month?"  she  asked  him,  finally. 

"  Not  yet ;  there  are  still  a  hundred  loads  of  wine 
for  Santuzza.  Afterwards,  God  will  provide." 

She  knew  not  what  to  say  while  Cousin  Alfio 
came  and  went  in  the  little  court,  unharnessing  the 
donkey  and  hanging  the  harness  on  the  knobs,  car- 
rying the  lantern  to  and  fro. 

"  If  you  go  to  Biccocca  we  shall  not  see  each 
other  any  more,"  said  Mena,  whose  voice  was  quite 
faint. 

"  But  why  ?     Are  you  going  away  too  ?" 

The  poor  child  could  not  speak  at  all  at  first, 
though  it  was  dark  and  no  one  could  see  her  face. 


112  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

From  time  to  time  the  neighbors  could  be  heard 
speaking  behind  the  closed  doors,  or  children  cry- 
ing, or  the  noise  of  the  platters  in  some  house 
where  supper  was  late ;  so  that  no  one  could  hear 
them  talking. 

"  Now  we  have  half  the  money  we  want  for  old 
Goosefoot,  and  at  the  salting  of  the  anchovies  we 
can  pay  the  other  half." 

Alfio,  at  this,  left  the  donkey  in  the  court  and 
came  out  into  the  street.  "  Then  you  will  be  mar- 
ried after  Easter  ?" 

Mena  did  not  reply. 

"  I  told  you  so,"  continued  Alfio.  "  I  saw  Padron 
'Ntoni  talking  with  Padron  Cipolla." 

"  It  will  be  as  God  wills,"  said  Mena.  "  I  don't 
care  to  be  married  if  I  might  only  stay  on  here." 

"  What  a  fine  thing  it  is  for  Cipolla,"  went  on 
Mosca,  "  to  be  rich  enough  to  marry  whenever  he 
pleases,  and  take  the  wife  he  prefers,  and  live 
where  he  likes !" 

"  Good-night,  Cousin  Alfio,"  said  Mena,  after  stop- 
ping a  while  to  gaze  at  the  lantern  hanging  on  the 
wicket,  and  the  donkey  cropping  the  nettles  on  the 
wall.  Cousin  Alfio  also  said  good-night,  and  went 
back  to  put  the  donkey  in  his  stall. 

Among  those  who  were  looking  after  Barbara  was 
Vanni  Pizzuti,  when  he  used  to  go  to  the  house  to 
shave  Master  Bastiano,  who  had  the  sciatica;  and 
also  Don  Michele,  who  found  it  a  bore  to  do  noth- 
ing but  march  around  with  the  pistols  in  his  belt' 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  113 

when  he  wasn't  behind  Santuzza's  counter,  and 
went  ogling  the  pretty  girls  to  pass  away  the  time. 
Barbara  at  first  returned  his  glances,  but  afterwards, 
when  her  mother  told  her  that  those  fellows  were 
only  loafing  around  to  no  purpose — a  lot  of  spies — 
all  foreigners  were  only  fit  to  be  flogged  —  she 
slammed  the  window  in  his  face — mustache,  gold- 
bordered  cap  and  all ;  and  Don  Michele  was  furious, 
and  for  spite  took  to  walking  up  and  down  the 
street,  twisting  his  mustache,  with  his  cap  over  his 
ear.  On  Sunday,  however,  he  put  on  his  plumed 
hat,  and  went  into  Vanni  Pizzuti's  shop  to  make 
eyes  at  her  as  she  went  by  to  mass  with  her  mother. 
Don  Silvestro  also  took  to  going  to  be  shaved 
among  those  who  waited  for  the  mass,  and  to 
warming  himself  at  the  brazier  for  the  hot  water, 
exchanging  saucy  speeches  with  the  rest.  "That 
Barbara  begins  to  hang  on  'Ntoni  Malavoglia's 
hands,"  he  said.  "What  will  you  bet  he  doesn't 
marry  her  after  all  ?  There  he  stands,  waiting,  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  waiting  for  her  to  come 
to  him." 

At  last,  one  day,  Don  Michele  said : 

"If  it  were  not  for  the  cap  with  the  border,  I'd 
make  that  ugly  scamp  'Ntoni  Malavoglia  hold  the 
candle  for  me — that  I  would." 

Don  Silvestro  lost  no  time  in  telling  'Ntoni  every- 
thing, and  how  Don  Michele,  the  brigadier,  who  was 
not  the  man  to  let  the  flies  perch  on  his  nose,  had  a 
grudge  against  him. 
8 


114  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

Goosefoot,  when  he  went  to  be  shaved  and  heard 
that  Don  Michele  would  have  given  him  something 
to  get  rid  of  'Ntoni  Malavoglia,  ruffled  himself  up 
like  a  turkey-cock  because  he  was  so  much  thought 
of  in  the  place.  Vanni  Pizzuti  went  on,  saying : 
"  Don  Michele  would  give  anything  to  have  the 
Malavoglia  in  his  hands  as  you  have.  Oh,  why 
did  you  let  that  row  with  'Ntoni  pass  off  so 
easily?" 

Goosefoot  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  went  on 
warming  his  hands  over  the  brazier.  Don  Silves- 
tro  began  to  laugh,  and  answered  for  him : 

"Master  Vanni  would  like  to  pull  the  chestnuts 
out  of  the  fire  with  Goosefoot's  paws.  We  know 
already  that  Gossip  Venera  will  have  nothing  to 
say  to  foreigners  or  to  gold-bordered  caps,  so  if 
'Ntoni  Malavoglia  were  out  of  the  way  he  would 
be  the  only  one  left  for  the  girl." 

Vanni  Pizzuti  said  nothing,  but  he  lay  awake 
the  whole  night  thinking  of  it.  "  It  wouldn't  be 
such  a  bad  thing,"  he  thought  to  himself;  "every- 
thing depends  upon  getting  hold  of  Goosefoot 
some  day  when  he  is  in  the  right  sort  of  humor." 

It  came  that  day,  once  when  Rocco  Spatu  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen.  Goosefoot  had  come  in  two 
or  three  times^  rather  late,  to  look  for  him,  with  a 
pale  face  and  starting  eyes,  too;  and  the  customs 
guard  had  been  seen  rushing  here  and  there,  full 
of  business,  smelling  about  like  hunting-dogs  with 
noses  to  the  ground,  and  Don  Michele  along  with 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  115 

them,  with  pistols  in  belt  and  trousers  thrust  into 
his  boots. 

"  You  might  do  a  good  service  to  Don  Michele 
if  you  would  take  'Ntoni  Malavoglia  out  of  his 
way,"  said  Vanni  to  Papa  Tino,  as  he  stood  in  the 
darkest  corner  of  the  shop  buying  a  cigar.  "  You'd 
do  him  a  famous  service,  and  make  a  friend  of  him 
for  life." 

"I  dare  say,"  sighed  Goosefoot.  He  had  no 
breath  that  evening,  and  said  nothing  more. 

In  the  night  were  heard  shots  over  towards  the 
cliffs  called  the  Rotolo  and  along  all  the  beach,  as 
if  some  one  were  hunting  quail.  "  Quail,  indeed  !" 
murmured  the  fisher-folk  as  they  started  up  in  bed 
to  listen.  "  Two-legged  quail,  those  are ;  quail  that 
bring  sugar  and  coffee  and  silk  handkerchiefs  that 
pay  no  duty.  That's  why  Don  Michele  had  his 
boots  in  his  trousers  and  his  pistols  in  his  belt." 

Goosefoot  went  as  usual  to  the  barber's  shop  for 
his  morning  glass  before  the  lantern  over  the  door 
had  been  put  out,  but  that  next  morning  he  had 
the  face  of  a  dog  that  has  upset  the  kettle.  He 
made  none  of  his  usual  jokes,  and  asked  this  one 
and  that  one  why  there  had  been  such  a  devil  of  a 
row  in  the  night,  and  what  had  become  of  Roc- 
co  Spatu  and  Cinghialenta,  and  doffed  his  cap  to 
Don  Michele,  and  insisted  on  paying  for  his  morn- 
ing draught.  Goosefoot  said  to  him  :  "  Take  a  glass 
of  spirits,  Don  Michele;  it  will  do  your  stomach 
good  after  your  wakeful  night.  Blood  of  Judas !" 


Il6  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

exclaimed  Goosefoot,  striking  his  fist  on  the  coun- 
ter and  feigning  to  fly  into  a  real  rage,  "  it  isn't  to 
Rome  that  I'll  send  that  young  ruffian  'Ntoni  to  do 
penance." 

"  Bravo !"  assented  Vanni.  "  I  wouldn't  have 
passed  it  over,  I  assure  you ;  nor  you,  Don  Michele, 
I'll  swear." 

Don  Michele  approved  with  a  growl. 

"  I'll  take  care  that  'Ntoni  and  all  his  relations 
are  put  in  their  places,"  Goosefoot  went  on  threat- 
ening. "  I'm  not  going  to  have  the  whole  place 
laughing  at  me.  You  may  rest  assured  of  that 
much,  Don  Michele."  And  off  he  went,  limping 
and  blaspheming,  as  if  he  were  in  a  fearful  rage, 
while  all  the  time  he  was  saying  to  himself,  "  One 
must  keep  friends  with  all  these  spies,"  and  rumi- 
nating on  how  he  was  to  make  a  friend  of  Santuz- 
za  as  well,  going  to  the  inn,  where  he  heard  from 
Uncle  Santoro  that  neither  Rocco  Spatu  nor  Cin- 
ghialenta  had  been  there;  then  went  on  to  Cousin 
Anna's,  who,  poor  thing,  hadn't  slept  a  wink,  and 
stood  at  her  door  looking  out,  pale  as  a  ghost. 
There  he  met  the  Wasp,  who  had  come  to  see  if 
Cousin  Anna  had  by  chance  a  little  leaven. 

"To-day  I  must  speak  with  your  uncle  Dumb- 
bell about  the  affair  you  know  of,"  said  Goosefoot. 
Dumb-bell  was  willing  enough  to  speak  of  that  af- 
fair which  never  came  to  an  end,  and  "  When  things 
grow  too  long  they  turn  into  snakes."  Padron 
'Ntoni  was  always  preaching  that  the  Malavoglia 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  I  17 

were  honest  people,  and  that  he  would  pay  him, 
but  he  (Dumb-bell)  would  like  to  know  where  the 
money  was  to  come  from.  In  the  place,  everybody 
knew  to  a  centime  what  everybody  owned,  and 
those  honest  people,  the  Malavoglia,  even  if  they 
sold  their  souls  to  the  Turks,  couldn't  manage  to 
pay  even  so  much  as  the  half  by  Easter;  and  to 
get  possession  of  the  house  one  must  have  stamped 
paper  and  all  sorts  of  expenses ;  that  he  knew  very 
well. 

And  all  this  time  Padron  'Ntoni  was  talking  of 
marrying  his  granddaughter.  He'd  seen  him  with 
Padron  Cipolla,  and  Uncle  Santoro  had  seen  him, 
and  Goosefoot  had  seen  him  too;  and  he,  too,  went 
on  doing  the  go-between  for  Vespa  and  that  lazy 
hound  Alfio  Mosca,  that  wanted  to  get  hold  of  her 
field. 

"  But  I  tell  you  that  I  do  nothing  of  the  sort !" 
shouted  Goosefoot  in  his  ear.  "  Your  niece  is  over 
head  and  ears  in  love  with  him,  and  is  always  at 
his  heels.  I  can't  shut  the  door  in  her  face,  out  'oi 
respect  for  you,  when  she  comes  to  have  a  chat  with 
my  wife ;  for,  after  all,  she  is  your  niece  and  your 
own  blood." 

" Respect!  Pretty  sort  of  respect!  "You'll 
chouse  me  out  of  the  field  with  your  respect." 

"  Among  them  they'll  chouse  you  out  of  it.  If  the 
Malavoglia  girl  marries  Brasi  Cipolla,  Mosca  will 
be  left  out  in  the  cold,  and  will  take  to  Vespa  and 
her  field  for  consolation." 


Il8  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

"  The  devil  may  have  her  for  what  I  care,"  called 
put  old  Crucifix,  deafened  by  Uncle  Tino's  clatter. 
"  I  don't  care  what  becomes  of  her,  a  godless  cat 
that  she  is.  I  want  my  property.  I  made  it  of 
my  blood ;  and  one  would  think  I  had  stolen  it,  that 
every  one  takes  it  from  me — Alfio  Mosca,  Vespa, 
the  Malavoglia.  I'll  go  to  law  and  take  the  house." 

"  You  are  the  master.  You  can  go  to  law  if  you 
like." 

"No,  I'll  wait  until  Easter — 'the  man  has  his 
word,  and  the  bull  has  his  horns;'  but  I  mean  to  be 
paid  up  to  the  last  centime,  and  I  won't  listen  to 
anybody  for  the  least  delay." 

In  fact,  Easter  was  drawing  near.  The  hills  be- 
gan once  more  to  clothe  themselves  with  green, 
and  the  Indian  figs  were  in  flower.  The  girls  had 
sowed  basil  outside  the  windows,  and  the  white 
butterflies  came  to  flutter  about  it;  even  the  pale 
plants  on  the  sea-shore  were  starred  with  white 
flowers.  In  the  morning  the  red  and  yellow  tiles 
smoked  in  the  rising  sun,  and  the  sparrows  twit- 
tered there  until  the  sun  had  set. 

And  the  house  by  the  medlar-tree,  too,  had  a  sort 
of  festive  air:  the  court  was  swept,  the  nets  and 
cords  were  hung  neatly  against  the  wall,  or  spread 
on-  drying-poles ;  the  garden  was  full  of  cabbages 
and  lettuce,  and  the  rooms  were  open  and  full  of 
sunshine,  that  looked  as  if  it  too  were  content.  All 
things  proclaimed  that  Easter  was  at  hand.  The 
elders  sat  on  the  steps  in  the  evening,  and  the  girls 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  119 

sang  at  the  washing-tank.  The  wagons  began  again 
to  pass  the  high-road  by  night,  and  at  dusk  there 
began  once  more  the  sound  of  voices  in  conversa- 
tion in  the  little  street. 

"  Cousin  Mena  is  going  to  be  married,"  they  said ; 
"her  mother  is  busy  with  her  outfit  already." 

Time  had  passed — and  all  things  pass  away  with 
time,  sad  things  as  well  as  sweet.  Now  Cousin 
Maruzza  was  always  busy  cutting  and  sewing  all 
sorts  of  household  furnishing,  and  Mena  never 
asked  for  whom  they  were  intended;  and  one  even- 
ing Brasi  Cipolla  was  brought  into  the  house,  with 
Master  Fortunato,  his  father,  and  all  his  relations. 

"  Here  is  Cousin  Cipolla,  who  is  come  to  make 
you  a  visit,"  said  Padron  'Ntoni,  introducing  him 
into  the  house,  as  if  no  one  knew  anything  about  it 
beforehand,  while  all  the  time  wine  and  roasted 
pease  were  made  ready  in  the  kitchen,  and  the 
women  and  the  girls  had  on  their  best  clothes. 

That  evening  Mena  looked  exactly  like  Sant'- 
Agata,  with  her  new  dress  and  her  black  kerchief 
on  her  head,  so  that  Brasi  never  took  his  eyes  off 
her,  but  sat  staring  at  her  all  the  evening  like  a 
basilisk,  sitting  on  the  edge  of  his  chair,  with  his 
hands  between  his  knees,  rubbing  them  now  and 
then  on  the  sly  for  very  pleasure. 

"  He  is  come  with  his  son  Brasi,  who  is  quite  a 
big  fellow  now,"  continued  Padron  'Ntoni. 

"  Yes,  the  children  grow  and  shoulder  us  into 
the  ground,"  answered  Padron  Fortunato. 


T20  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

"  Now  you'll  take  a  glass  of  our  wine — of  the 
best  we  have,  and  a  few  dried  pease  which  my 
daughter  has  toasted.  If  we  had  only  known  you 
were  coming  we  might  have  had  something  ready 
better  worth  your  acceptance." 

"  We  happened  to  be  passing  by,"  said  Padron 
Cipolla,  "  and  we  said,  '  Let' s  go  and  make  a  visit 
to  Cousin  Maruzza/  " 

Brasi  filled  his  pockets  with  dried  pease,  always 
looking  at  the  girl,  and  then  the  boys  cleared  the 
dish  in  spite  of  all  Nunziata,  with  the  baby  in  her 
arms,  could  do  to  hinder  them,  talking  all  the  while 
among  themselves  softly  as  if  they  had  been  in 
church.  The  elders  by  this  time  were  in  conversa- 
tion together  under  the  medlar,  all  the  gossips  clus- 
tering around  full  of  praises  of  the  girl — how  she 
was  such  a  good  manager,  and  kept  the  house  neat 
as  a  new  pin.  "The  girl  as  she  is  trained,  and 
the  flax  as  it  is  spun,"  they  quoted. 

"  Your  granddaughter  is  also  grown  up,"  said  Pa- 
dron Fortunate;  "it  is  time  she  was  married." 

"  If  the  Lord  sends  her  a  good  husband  I  ask 
nothing  better,"  replied  Padron  'Ntoni. 

<fThe  husband  and  the  bishop  are  chosen  by 
Heaven,"  added  Cousin  La  Longa. 

Mena  sat  by  the  young  man,  as  is  the  custom, 
but  she  never  lifted  her  eyes  from  her  apron,  and 
Brasi  complained  to  his  father,  when  they  came 
away,  that  she  had  not  offered  him  the  plate  with 
the  dried  pease. 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  12 1 

"  Did  you  want  more  ?"  interrupted  Padron  For- 
tunato  when  they  were  out  of  hearing.  "  Nobody 
could  hear  anything  for  your  munching  like  a  mule 
at  a  sack  of  barley.  Look  if  you  haven't  upset  the 
wine  on  your  new  trousers,  lout !  You've  spoiled  a 
new  suit  for  me." 

Padron  'Ntoni,  in  high  spirits,  rubbing  his  hands, 
said  to  his  daughter-in-law  r  "  I  can  hardly  believe 
that  everything  is  so  happily  settled.  Mena  will 
want  for  nothing,  and  now  we  can  put  in  order  all 
our  other  little  matters,  and  you  may  say  the  old 
daddy  was  right  when  he  said,  '  Tears  and  smiles 
come  close  together.' " 

That  Saturday,  towards  evening,  Nunziata  came 
in  to  get  a  handful  of  beans  for  the  children,  and 
said:  "Cousin  Alfio  goes  away  to-morrow.  He's 
packing  up  all  his  things." 

Mena  turned  white,  and  stopped  weaving. 

In  Alfio's  house  there  was  a  light.  Everything 
was  topsy-turvy.  He  came  a  few  minutes  after, 
knocking  at  the  door,  also  with  a  very  white  face, 
and  tying  and  untying  the  knot  of  the  lash  of  his 
whip,  which  he  held  in  his  hand. 

"  I've  come  to  say  good-bye  to  you  all,  Cousin 
Maruzza,  Padron  'Ntoni,  the  boys,  and  you  too. 
Cousin  Mena.  The  wine  from  Aci  Catena  is  fin- 
ished. Now  Santuzza  will  get  it  from  Master  Fi- 
lippo.  I'm  going  to  Biccocca,  where  there  is  work 
to  be  got  for  my  donkey." 

Mena  said  nothing;   only  the  mother  spoke  in 


122  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

reply  to  him  :  "  Won't  you  wait  for  Padron  'Ntoni  ?' 
He  will  be  glad  to  see  you  before  you  go." 

So  Cousin  Alfio  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  a  chair, 
whip  in  hand,  and  looked  about  the  room,  in  the 
opposite  direction  to  that  where  Mena  was. 

"Now,  when  are  you  coming  back?"  said  La 
Longa. 

"  Who  knows  when  I  shall  come  back  ?  I  shall 
go  where  my  donkey  carries  me.  As  long  as  there 
is  work  I  shall  stay;  but  I  should  rather  come  back 
here  if  I  could  manage  to  live  anyhow." 

"Take  care  of  your  health,  Cousin  Alfio;  I've 
been  told  that  people  die  like  flies  of  the  malaria 
down  there  at  the  Biccocca." 

Alfio  shrugged  his  shoulders,  saying  there  was 
nothing  to  be  done.  "  I  would  much  rather  not 
have  gone  away  from  here."  He  went  on  looking 
at  the  candle.  "And  you  say  nothing  to  me,  Cousin 
Mena?" 

The  girl  opened  her  mouth  two  or  three  times  as 
if  to  speak,  but  no  words  came ;  her  heart  beat  too 
fast. 

"And  you,  too,  will  leave  the  neighborhood  when 
you  are  married,"  added  Alfio.  "The  world  is  like 
an  inn,  with  people  coming  and  going.  By-and-by 
everybody  will  have  changed  places,  and  nothing 
will  be  the  same  as  it  was."  So  saying,  he  rubbed 
his  hands  and  smiled,  but  with  lips  only — not  in 
his  heart. 

"Girls,"  said  La  Longa,  "go  where  Heaven  ap- 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  123 

points  them  to  go.  When  they  are  young  they  are 
gay  and  have  no  care;  when  they  go  into  the  world 
they  meet  with  grief  and  trouble." 

Alfio,  after  Padron  'Ntoni  and  the  boys  had  come 
back,  and  he  had  wished  them  also  good-bye,  could 
not  make  up  his  mind  to  go,  but  stood  on  the  thresh- 
old, with  his  whip  under  his  arm,  shaking  hands  now 
with  one,  now  with  another — with  Cousin  Maruzza 
as  well  as  the  rest — and  went  on  repeating,  as  peo- 
ple do  when  they  are  going  for  a  long  journey,  and 
are  not  sure  of  ever  coming  back,  "  Pardon  me  if  I 
have  been  wanting  in  any  way  towards  any  of  you." 

The  only  one  who  did  not  take  his  hand  was 
Sant'Agata,  who  stayed  in  the  dark  corner  by  the 
loom.  But,  of  course,  that  is  the  proper  way  for 
girls  to  behave  on  such  occasions. 

It  was  a  fine  spring  evening,  and  the  moon  shone 
over  the  court  and  the  street,  over  the  people  sit- 
ting before  the  doors  and  the  girls  walking  up  and 
down  singing,  with  their  arms  around  each  other's 
waists.  Mena  came  out,  too,  with  Nunziata;  she 
felt  as  if  she  should  suffocate  in  the  house. 

"  Now  we  sha'n't  see  Cousin  Alfio's  lamp  any 
more  in  the  evenings,"  said  Nunziata,  "  and  the 
house  will  be  shut  up." 

Cousin  Alfio  had  loaded  his  cart  with  all  the 
wares  he  was  taking  away  with  him,  and  now  he 
was  tying  up  the  straw  which  remained  in  the 
manger  into  a  bundle,  while  the  pot  bubbled  on  the 
fire  with  the  beans  for  his  supper. 


124  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

"  Shall  you  be  gone  before  morning,  Cousin  Al- 
fio?"  asked  Nunziata  from  the  door  of  the  little 
court. 

"  Yes.     I  have  a  long  way  to  go,  and  this  poor  . 
beast  has  a  heavy  load.    I  must  let  him  have  a  rest 
in  the  daytime." 

Mena  said  nothing,  but  leaned  on  the  gate-post, 
looking  at  the  loaded  cart,  the  empty  house,  the 
bed  half  taken  down,  and  the  pot  boiling  for  the 
last  time  on  the  hearth. 

"Are  you  there  too,  Cousin  Mena?"  cried  Alfio 
as  soon  as  he  saw  her,  and  left  off  what  he  was  en- 
gaged upon. 

She  nodded  her  head,  and  Nunziata  ran,  like  a 
good  housekeeper  as  she  was,  to  skim  off  the  pot, 
which  was  boiling  over. 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  here ;  now  I  can  say  good- 
bye to  you,  too." 

"  I  came  here  to  see  you  once  more,"  she  said, 
with  tears  in  her  voice.  "  Why  do  you  go  down 
there  where  there  is  the  malaria  ?" 

Alfio  began  to  laugh  from  the  lips  outward,  as 
he  did  when  he  went  to  say  good-bye  to  them  all. 

"A  pretty  question  !  Why  do  I  go  there  ?  and 
why  do  you  marry  Brasi  Cipolla  ?  One  does  what 
one  can,  Cousin  Mena.  If  I  could  have  done  as  I 
wished  to  do,  you  know  what  I  would  have  done." 

She  gazed  and  gazed  at  him,  with  eyes  shining 
with  tears. 

"  I  should  have  stayed  here  where  the  very  walls 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  125 

are  my  friends,  and  where  I  can  go  about  in  the 
night  to  stable  my  donkey,  even  in  the  dark;  and  I 
should  have  married  you,  Cousin  Mena  —  I  have 
held  you  in  my  heart  this  long  while — and  I  shall 
carry  you  with  me  to  the  Biccocca,  and  wherever  1 
may  go.  But  this  is  all  useless  talk,  and  one  must 
do  what  one  can.  My  donkey,  too,  must  go  where 
I  drive  him." 

"  Now  farewell,"  said  Mena  at  last.  "  I,  too, 
have  something  like  a  thorn  here  within  me.  .  .  . 
And  now  when  I  see  this  window  always  shut,  it 
will  seem  as  if  my  heart  were  shut  too,  as  if  it  were 
shut  inside  the  window — heavy  as  an  oaken  door. 
But  so  God  wills.  Now  I  wish  you  well,  and  I 
must  go." 

The  poor  child  wept  silently,  hiding  her  eyes  with 
her  hand,  and  went  away  with  Nunziata  to  sit  and 
cry  under  the  medlar-tree  in  the  moonlight. 


IX. 

NEITHER  the  Malavoglia  nor  any  one  else  in  the 
town  had  any  idea  what  Goosefoot  and  Uncle  Cru- 
cifix were  hatching  together.  On  Easter  Day  Pa- 
clron  'Ntoni  took  out  the  hundred  lire  which  were 
amassed  in  the  bureau  drawer,  and  put  on  his  Sun- 
day jacket  to  carry  them  to  Uncle  Crucifix. 

"  What,  is  it  all  here?"  said  he. 

"  It  can't  yet  be  all,  Uncle  Crucifix ;  you  know 


126  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

how  much  it  costs  us  to  get  together  a  hundred  lire. 
But  'better  half  a  loaf  than  no  bread,' and  *  paying 
on  account  is  no  bad  pay.'  Now  the  summer  is  com- 
ing, and  with  God's  help  we'll  pay  off  the  whole." 

"  Why  do  you  bring  it  to  me  ?  You  know  I  have 
nothing  more  to  do  with  it ;  it  is  Cousin  Goosefoot's 
affair." 

"  It  is  all  the  same ;  it  seems  always  to  me  as  if  I 
owed  it  to  you,  whenever  I  see  you.  Cousin  Tino 
won't  say  no,  if  you  ask  him  to  wait  until  the  Ma- 
donna delFOgnino." 

"This  won't  even  pay  the  expenses,"  said  old 
Dumb-bell,  passing  the  money  through  his  fingers. 
"Go  to  him  yourself  and  ask  him  if  he'll  wait  for 
you ;  I  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  it." 

Goosefoot  began  to  swear,  and  to  fling  his  cap  on 
the  ground  after  his  usual  fashion,  vowing  that  he 
had  not  bread  to  eat,  and  that  he  could  not  wait 
even  until  Ascension-tide. 

"  Listen,  Cousin  Tino  !"  said  Padron  'Ntoni,  with 
clasped  hands,  as  if  he  were  praying  to  our  Lord 
God,  "  if  you  don't  give  me  at  least  until  Saint  Gio- 
vanni, now  that  I  have  to  marry  my  granddaughter, 
it  would  be  better  that  you  should  stab  me  with  a 
knife  and  be  done  with  it." 

"  By  the  holy  devil !"  cried  Uncle  Tino,  "  you 
make  me  do  more  than  I  can  manage.  Cursed  be 
the  day  and  the  hour  in  which  I  mixed  myself  up 
in  this  confounded  business."  And  he  went  off, 
tearing  at  his  old  cap. 


THE    HOUSE   BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  127 

Padron  'Ntoni  went  home,  still  pale  from  the  en- 
counter, and  said  to  his  daughter-in-law,  "  I've  got 
off  this  time,  but  I  had  to  beg  him  as  if  I  had  been 
praying  to  God,"  and  the  poor  old  fellow  still  trem- 
bled. But  he  was  glad  that  nothing  had  come  to 
Padron  Cipolla's  ears,  and  that  the  marriage  was 
not  likely  to  be  broken  off. 

On  the  evening  of  the  Ascension,  while  the  boys 
were  still  dancing  around  the  post  with  the  bonfire, 
the  gossips  were  collected  around  the  Malavoglia's 
balcony,  and  Cousin  Venera  Zuppidda  was  with 
them  to  listen  to  what  was  said,  and  to  give  her 
opinion  like  the  rest.  Now,  as  Padron  'Ntoni  was 
marrying  his  granddaughter,  and  the  Provvidenza 
was  on  her  legs  once  more,  everybody  was  ready 
to  put  a  good  face  on  it  with  the  Malavoglia — for 
nobody  knew  anything  of  what  Goosefoot  had  in 
his  head  to  do,  not  even  Cousin  Grace,  his  wife,  who 
went  on  talking  with  Cousin  Maruzza  just  as  if  her 
husband  had  nothing  on  his  mind.  'Ntoni  went 
every  evening  to  have  a  chat  with  Barbara,  and 
had  confided  to  her  that  his  grandfather  had  said, 
"  First  we  must  marry  Mena."  "  And  I  come  next," 
concluded  'Ntoni.  After  this  Barbara  had  given  to 
Mena  the  pot  of  basil,  all  adorned  with  carnations, 
and  tied  up  with  a  fine  red  ribbon,  which  was  the 
sign  of  particular  friendship  between  girls ;  and  ev- 
erybody made  a  great  deal  of  Sant'Agata — even  her. 
mother  had  taken  off  her  black  kerchief,  because 
it  is  unlucky  to  wear  mourning  in  the  house  where 


128  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

there  is  a  bride,  and  had  written  to  Luca  to  give 
him  notice  that  Mena  was  going  to  be  married. 
She  alone,  poor  girl,  seemed  anything  but  gay,  and 
everything  looked  black  to  her,  though  the  fields 
were  covered  with  stars  of  silver  and  of  gold,  and 
the  girls  wove  garlands  for  Ascension,  and  she  her- 
self went  up  and  down  the  stairs  helping  her  moth- 
er to  hang  the  garlands  over  the  door  and  the  win- 
dows. 

While  all  the  doors  were  hung  with  flowers,  only 
that  of  Cousin  Alfio,  black  and  twisted  awry,  was 
always  shut,  and  no  one  came  to  hang  the  flowers 
there  for  the  Ascension. 

"That  coquette  Sant'Agata,"  Vespa  went  about 
saying  in  her  furious  way,  "she's  managed  at  last 
to  send  that  poor  Alfio  Mosca  out  of  the  place." 
Meanwhile  they  had  made  a  new  gown  for  Sant'- 
Agata, and  were  only  waiting  until  Saint  John's 
Day  to  take  the  silver  dagger  out  of  her  braids  of 
hair,  and  part  it  over  her  forehead,  before  she  went 
to  church,  so  that  every  one  who  saw  her  pass  said, 
"Lucky  girl!" 

Padron  Cipolla  at  this  time  sat  for  whole  even- 
ings together  with  Padron  'Ntoni,  on  the  church 
steps,  talking  of  the  wondrous  doings  of  the  Prov- 
videnza.  Brasi  was  always  hanging  about  the  street 
near  the  Malavoglia,  with  his  new  clothes  on ;  and 
soon  after  it  was  known  all  over  the  place  that  on 
that  Sunday  coming  Cousin  Grace  Goosefoot  was 
going  herself  to  part  the  girl's  hair,  and  to  take  out 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  129 

the  silver  dagger  from  her  braids — because  Brasi 
Cipolla  had  lost  his  mother — and  the  Malavoglia 
had  asked  Cousin  Grace  on  purpose  to  please  her 
husband,  and  they  had  asked  also  Uncle  Crucifix 
and  all  the  neighborhood,  and  all  their  relations 
and  friends  without  exception. 

Cousin  Venera  la  Zuppidda  made  no  end  of  a 
row  because  she  hadn't  been  asked  to  dress  the 
bride's  hair — she,  who  was  going  to  be  a  connection 
of  the  Malavoglia — and  her  girl  had  a  sweet-basil 
friendship  with  Mena,  so  much  so  that  she  had 
made  up  a  new  jacket  for  Barbara  in  a  hurry,  not 
expecting  such  an  affront.  'Ntoni  prayed  and  beg- 
ged in  vain  that  they  would  not  take  it  up  like  that, 
but  pass  it  over.  Cousin  Venera,  with  her  hair 
ready  dressed,  but  with  her  hands  covered  with 
flour,  for  she  had  begun  to  make  the  bread,  so  that 
she  didn't  mean  to  go  to  the  party  at  the  Mala- 
voglia, replied: 

"  You  wanted  Goosefoot's  wife,  keep  her !  Or 
her  or  me ;  we  can't  stay  together.  The  Mala- 
voglia know  very  well  that  they  have  chosen  Mad- 
am Grace  only  because  of  the  money  they  owe  her 
husband.  Now  they  are  hand  and  glove  with  old 
Tino  since  Padron  Cipolla  made  him  make  it  up 
with  Padron  'Ntoni's  'Ntoni  after  that  affair  of  the 
fight.  They  would  lick  his  boots  because  they  owe 
him  that  money  on  the  house,"  she  went  on  scolding. 
"  They  owe  my  husband  fifty  lire  too,  for  the  Prov- 
videnza.  To-morrow  I  mean  to  make  them  pay  it." 
9 


130  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

"  Do  let  them  alone,  mother,"  supplicated  Bar- 
bara. But  she  was  in  the  pouts  too,  because  she 
couldn't  wear  her  new  jacket,  and  she  was  almost 
sorry  she  had  spent  the  money  for  the  basil-plant 
for  Mena;  and  'Ntoni,  who  had  come  to  take  her 
home  with  him,  had  to  go  off  alone,  quite  chap- 
fallen,  looking  as  if  his  new  coat  were  too  big  for 
him.  Mother  and  daughter  stood  looking  out  of 
the  court,  where  they  were  putting  the  bread  in  the 
oven,  listening  to  the  noise  going  on  at  the  house 
by  the  medlar,  for  the  talking  and  laughing  could 
be  heard  quite  plainly  where  they  were,  putting 
them  in  a  greater  rage  than  ever. 

The  house  was  full  of  people,  just  as  it  had  been 
at  the  time  of  Bastianazzo's  death,  and  Mena,  with- 
out her  dagger,  and  with  her  hair  parted  in  the 
middle,  looked  quite  differently;  so  that  the  gos- 
sips all  crowded  around  her  and  made  such  a  chat- 
tering that  you  couldn't  have  heard  a  cannonade. 
Goosefoot  went  on  talking  nonsense  to  the  women, 
and  made  them  laugh  as  if  he  had  been  tickling 
them;  while  all  the  time  the  lawyer  was  getting 
ready  the  papers,  although  Uncle  Crucifix  had  said 
that  there  was  time  enough  yet  to  send  the  sum- 
mons. Even  Padron  Cipolla  permitted  himself  a 
joke  or  two,  at  which  no  one  laughed  but  his  son 
Brasi ;  and  everybody  spoke  at  once ;  while  the  boys 
struggled  on  the  floor  for  beans  and  chestnuts. 
Even  La  Longa,  poor  woman,  had  forgotten  her 
troubles  for  the  moment,  so  pleased  was  she ;  and 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  131 

Padron  'Ntoni  sat  on  the  low  wall,  nodding  his  head 
in  assent  to  everybody  and  smiling  to  himself. 

"Take  care  that  this  time  you  don't  give  your 
drink  to  your  trousers,  which  are  not  thirsty,"  said 
Padron  Cipolla  to  his  son. 

"The  party  is  given  for  Cousin  Mena,"  said 
Nunziata,  "  but  she  doesn't  seem  to  enjoy  it  as  the 
others  do." 

At  which  Cousin  Anna  made  as  if  she  had  drop- 
ped the  flask  which  she  had  in  her  hand,  in  which 
there  was  still  nearly  a  half-pint  of  wine,  and  called 
out:  "  Here's  luck,  here's  luck  !  *  Where  there  are 
shards  there  is  feasting,'  and  '  Spilled  wine  is  of 
good  omen.'  " 

"A  little  more  and  I  should  have  had  it  on  my 
new  trousers  this  time  too,"  growled  Brasi,  who, 
since  his  misfortune  to  his  new  clothes,  had  become 
very  cautious. 

Goosefoot  sat  astride  of  the  wall,  with  the  glass 
between  his  legs  (it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  were 
already  the  master,  because  of  that  summons  he 
meant  to  send),  and  called  out,  "To-day  there's 
nobody  at  the  tavern,  not  even  Rocco  Spatu;  to- 
day all  the  fun's  here,  the  same  as  if  we  were  at 
Santuzza's." 

From  the  wall  where  he  sat  Goosefoot  could  see 

a  group  of  people  who  stood  talking  together  by 

f  the  fountain,  with  faces  as  serious  as  if  the  world 

were  coming  to  an  end.     At  the  druggist's  shop 

there  were  the  usual  idlers  with  the  journal,  talking 


132  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

and  shaking  their  fists  in  each  other's  faces,  as  if 
they  were  coming  to  blows  the  next  minute  ;  while 
Don  Giammaria  laughed,  and  took  snuff  with  a  sat- 
isfaction visible  even  at  that  distance. 

"  Why  didn't  Don  Silvestro  and  the  vicar  come  ?" 
asked  Goosefoot. 

"I  told  them  to,  but  they  appear  to  have  some- 
thing particular  to  do,"  answered  Padron  'Ntoni. 

"They're  over  there  at  the  shop,  and  there's  a 
fuss  as  if  the  man  with  the  numbers  of  the  lottery 
had  come.  What  the  deuce  can  have  happened?" 

An  old  woman  rushed  across  the  piazza,  scream- 
ing and  tearing  her  hair  as  if  at  some  dreadful 
news ;  and  before  Pizzuti's  shop  there  was  a  crowd 
as  thick  as  if  an  ass  had  tumbled  under  his  load 
there ;  and  even  the  children  stood  outside  listening, 
open-mouthed,  not  daring  to  go  nearer. 

"  For  my  part  I  shall  go  and  see  what  it  is,"  said 
Goosefoot,  coming  slowly  down  off  the  wall. 

In  the  group,  instead  of  a  fallen  ass,  there  were 
two  soldiers  of  the  marine  corps,  with  sacks  on 
their  shoulders  and  their  heads  bound  up,  going 
home  on  leave,  who  had  stopped  on  their  way  at 
the  barber's  to  get  a  glass  of  bitters.  They  were 
telling  how  there  had  been  a  great  battle  at  sea, 
and  how  ships  as  big  as  all  Aci  Trezza,  full  as  they 
could  hold  of  soldiers,  had  gone  down  just  as  they 
were ;  so  that  their  tales  sounded  like  those  of  the 
men  who  go  about  recounting  the  adventures  of 
Orlando  and  the  Paladins  of  France  on  the  marina 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  133 

at  Catania,  and  the  people  stood  as  thick  as  flies  in 
the  sun  to  listen  to  them. 

"  Maruzza  la  Longa's  son  was  also  on  board  the 
Re  d"  Italia"  observed  Don  Silvestro,  who  had  also 
drawn  near  to  listen  with  the  rest. 

"  Now  I'll  go  and  tell  that  to  my  wife,"  cried 
Master  Cola  Zuppiddu,  "  then  she'll  be  sure  to  go 
to  Cousin  Maruzza.  I  don't  like  coolnesses  be- 
tween friends  and  neighbors." 

But  meanwhile  the  poor  Longa  knew  nothing 
about  it,  and  was  laughing  and  amusing  herself 
among  her  relations  and  friends. 

The  soldier  seemed  never  tired  of  talking,  and 
gesticulated  with  his  arms  like  a  preacher. 

"  Yes,  there  were  Sicilians — there  were  men  from 
every  place  you  can  think  of.  But,  mind  you,  when 
the  calls  pipe  to  the  batteries,  one  minds  neither 
north  nor  south,  and  the  guns  all  talk  the  same 
language.  Brave  fellows  all,  and  with  strong  hearts 
under  their  shirts.  I  can  tell  you,  when  one  has 
seen  what  I  have  seen  with  these  eyes,  how  those 
boys  stood  up  to  their  duty,  by  Our  Lady !  one 
feels  that  one  has  a  right  to  cock  one's  hat." 

The  youth's  eyes  were  wet,  but  he  said  it  was 
only  because  the  bitters  were  so  strong. 

"  It  seems  to  me  those  fellows  are  all  mad,"  said 
Padron  Cipolla,  blowing  his  nose  with  great  delib- 
eration. "  Would  you  go  and  get  yourself  killed 
just  because  the  King  said  to  you,  'Go  and  be 
killed  for  my  sake  ?'  " 


134  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

All  the  evening  there  was  talking  and  laughing 
and  drinking  in  the  Malavoglia's  court  in  the  bright 
moonlight,  and  when  nearly  everybody  was  tired, 
and  they  sat  chewing  roasted  beans,  with  their 
backs  against  the  wall,  some  of  them  singing  softly 
among  themselves,  they  began  talking  about  the 
story  that  the  two  soldiers  on  leave  had  been  tell- 
ing. Padron  Fortunato  had  gone  away  early,  tak- 
ing with  him  his  son  in  his  new  clothes.  "  Those 
poor  Malavoglia,"  said  he,  meeting  Dumb-bell  in 
the  piazza ;  "  God  have  mercy  on  them  !  It  seems 
as  if  they  were  bewitched.  They  have  nothing  but 
ill  luck." 

Uncle  Crucifix  scratched  his  head  in  silence.  It 
was  no  affair  of  his  any  more.  Goosefoot  had  taken 
charge  of  it,  but  he  was  sorry  for  them — really  he 
was,  in  earnest. 

The  day  after  the  rumor  began  to  spread  that 
there  had  been  a  great  battle  at  sea,  over  towards 
Trieste,  between  our  ships  and  those  of  the  enemy. 
Nobody  knew  how  many  there  were,  and  many 
people  had  been  killed.  Some  told  the  story  in  one 
way,  some  in  another  —  in  pieces,  as  it  were,  and 
broken  phrases.  The  neighbors  came  with  hands 
under  their  aprons  to  ask  Cousin  Maruzza  whether 
that  were  not  where  Luca  was,  and  looked  sadly  at 
her  as  they  did  so.  The  poor  woman  began  to 
stand  at  the  door  as  they  do  when  a  misfortune 
happens,  turning  her  head  this  way  and  that,  or 
looking  down  the  road  towards  the  turn,  as  if  she 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE   MEDLAR-TREE.  135 

expected  her  father-in-law  and  the  boys  back  from 
the  sea  before  the  usual  time.  Then  the  neighbors 
would  ask  her  if  she  had  had  a  letter  from  Luca 
lately,  or  how  long  it  had  been  since  he  had  written. 
In  truth  she  had  not  thought  about  the  letter,  but 
now  she  could  not  sleep  nor  close  her  eyes  the 
whole  night,  thinking  always  of  the  sea  over  tow- 
ards Trieste,  where  that  dreadful  thing  had  hap- 
pened; and  she  saw  her  son  always  before  her, 
pale,  immovable,  with  sad,  shining  eyes,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  he  nodded  his  head  at  her  as  he  had 
clone  when  he  left  her  to  go  for  a  soldier.  And 
thinking  of  him,  she  felt  as  if  she  had  a  burning 
thirst  herself,  and  a  burning  heat  inside  that  was 
past  description.  Among  all  the  stories  that  were 
always  going  in  the  village  she  remembered  one  of 
some  sailors  that  had  been  picked  up  after  many 
hours,  just  in  time  to  save  them  from  being  de- 
voured by  the  sharks,  and  how  in  the  midst  of  all 
that  water  they  were  dying  of  thirst.  And  as  she 
thought  of  how  they  were  dying  of  thirst  in  the 
midst  of  all  that  water,  she  could  not  help  getting 
up  to  drink  out  of  the  pitcher,  and  lay  in  the  dark 
with  wide-open  eyes,  seeing  always  that  mournful 
vision. 

As  days  went  on,  however,  there  was  no  more 
talk  of  what  had  happened,  but  as  La  Longa  had 
no  letter,  she  began  to  be  unable  either  to  work  or 
to  stay  still;  and  she  was  always  wandering  from 
house  to  house  as  if  so  she  hoped  to  hear  of  some- 


136  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

thing  to  ease  her  mind.  "  Did  you  ever  see  any- 
thing so  like  a  cat  who  has  lost  her  kitten  ?"  asked 
the  neighbors  of  each  other.  And  Padron  'Ntoni 
did  not  go  to  sea,  and  followed  his  daughter-in-law 
about  as  if  he  had  been  a  dog.  Some  one  said  to 
him,  "  Go  to  Catania,  that  is  a  big  place ;  they'll  be 
able  to  tell  you  something  there." 

In  that  big  place  the  poor  old  man  felt  more  lost 
than  he  ever  did  out  at  sea  by  night  when  he  didn't 
know  which  way  to  point  his  rudder.  At  last  some 
one  was  charitable  enough  to  tell  him  to  go  to  the 
captain  of  the  port,  who  would  be  certain  to  know 
all  about  it.  There,  after  sending  them  from  Pilate 
to  Herod  and  back  again,  he  began  to  turn  over 
certain  big  books  and  run  down  the  lists  of  the 
dead  with  his  finger.  When  lie  came  to  one  name, 
La  Longa,  who  had  scarcely  heard  what  went  on,  so 
loudly  did  her  ears  ring,  and  was  listening  as  white 
as  the  sheet  of  paper,  slipped  silently  down  on  the 
floor  as  if  she  had  been  dead. 

"  It  was  more  than  forty  days  ago,"  said  the  clerk, 
shutting  up  the  list.  "  It  was  at  Lissa.  Had  not 
you  heard  of  it  yet  ?" 

They  brought  La  Longa  home  in  a  cart,  and  she 
was  ill  for  several  days.  Henceforward  she  was 
given  to  a  great  devotion  to  the  Mother  of  Sorrows, 
who  is  on  the  altar  of  the  little  chapel;  and  it 
seemed  to  her  as  if  the  long  corpse  stretched  on 
the  mother's  knees,  with  blue  ribs  and  bleeding 
side,  was  her  Luca's  own  portrait,  and  in  her  own 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  137 

heart  she  felt  the  points  of  the  Madonna's  seven 
sharp  swords.  Every  evening  the  devotees,  when 
they  came  to  church  for  the  benediction,  and  Don 
Cirino,  when  he  went  about  shaking  his  keys  before 
shutting  up  for  the  night,  found  her  there  in  the 
same  place,  with  her  face  bent  down  upon  her 
knees,  and  they  called  her,  too,  the  Mother  of  Sor- 
rows. 

"  She  is  right,"  they  said  in  the  village.  "  Luca 
would  have  been  back  before  long,  and  there  would 
have  been  the  thirty  sous  a  day  more  to  the  good 
for  the  family.  '  To  the  sinking  ship  all  winds  blow 
contrary.' " 

"  Have  you  seen  Padron  'Ntoni  ?"  added  Goose- 
foot.  "Since  his  grandson's  death  he  looks  just 
like  an  old  owl.  The  house  by  the  medlar  is  full 
of  cracks  and  leaks,  and  every  one  who  wants  to 
save  his  money  had  better  look  out  for  himself." 

La  Ztippidda  was  always  as  cross  as  a  fury,  and 
went  on  muttering  that  now  the  whole  family  would 
be  left  on  'Ntoni's  hands.  This  time  any  girl  might 
think  twice  about  marrying  him. 

"  When  Mena  is  married,"  replied  'Ntoni,  "grand- 
papa will  let  us  have  the  room  up-stairs." 

"  I'm  not  accustomed  to  live  in  a  room  up-stairs, 
like  the  pigeons,"  snapped  out  Barbara,  so  savagely 
that  her  own  father  said  to  'Ntoni,  looking  about  as 
he  walked  with  him  up  the  lane,  "  Barbara  is  grow- 
ing just  like  her  mother;  if  you  don't  get  the  better 
of  her  now,  you'll  lead  just  such  a  life  as  I  do." 


138  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

The  end  was  that  Goosefoot  swore  his  usual 
oath  by  the  big  holy  devil  that  this  time  he  would 
be  paid.  Midsummer  was  come,  and  the  Malavo- 
glia  were  once  more  talking  of  paying  on  account 
because  they  had  not  got  together  the  whole  sum, 
and  hoped  to  pick  it  up  at  the  olive  harvest.  He 
had  taken  those  pence  out  of  his  own  mouth,  and 
hadn't  bread  to  eat — before  God  he  hadn't.  He 
couldn't  live  upon  air  until  the  olive  harvest. 

"I'm  sorry,  Padron  'Ntoni,"  he  said,  "but  what 
will  you  have  ?  I  must  think  of  my  own  interest 
first.  Even  Saint  Joseph  shaved  himself  first,  and 
then  the  rest."  "  It  will  soon  be  a  year  that  it  has 
been  going  on,"  added  Uncle  Crucifix,  when  he 
was  growling  with  Uncle  Tino  alone,  "and  not  one 
centime  of  interest  have  I  touched.  Those  two 
hundred  lire  will  hardly  cover  the  expenses.  You'll 
see  that  at  the  time  of  olives  they'll  put  you  off 
till  Christmas,  and  then  till  Easter  again.  That's 
the  way  people  are  ruined.  But  I  have  made  my 
money  by  the  sweat  of  my  brow.  Now  one  of 
them  is  in  Paradise,  the  other  wants  to  marry  La 
Zuppidda ;  they'll  never  be  able  to  get  on  with  that 
patched-up  old  boat,  and  they  are  trying  to  marry 
the  girl.  They  never  think  of  anything  but  mar- 
rying, those  people ;  they  have  a  madness  for  it, 
like  my  niece  Vespa.  Now,  when  Mena  is  married 
you'll  see  that  Mosca  '11  come  back  and  carry  her 
off,  with  her  field." 

He  wound  up  by  scolding  about  the  lawyer,  who 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  139 

took  such  a  time  about  the  papers  before  he  sent 
in  the  summons. 

"  Padron  'Ntoni  will  have  been  there  to  tell  him 
to  wait,"  suggested  Goosefoot.  "With  an  ounce 
of  pitch  one  can  buy  ten  such  lawyers  as  that." 

This  time  he  had  quarrelled  seriously  with  the 
Malavoglia,  because  La  Zuppidda  had  taken  his 
wife's  clothes  out  of  the  bottom  of  the  tank  and 
had  put  hers  in  their  place.  Such  a  mean  thing 
as  that  he  could  not  bear;  La  Zuppidda  wouldn't 
have  thought  of  it  if  she  hadn't  got  that  pumpkin- 
head  of  a  'Ntoni  Malavoglia  behind  her,  a  bully 
that  he  was.  A  good-for-nothing  lot  they  were, 
the  Malavoglia,  and  he  didn't  want  to  see  any 
more  of  them,  swearing  and  blaspheming  as  his 
wont  was. 

The  stamped  paper  began  to  rain  in  on  them, 
and  Goosefoot  declared  that  the  lawyer  couldn't 
have  been  content  with  the  bribe  Padron  'Ntoni 
had  given  him  to  let  them  alone,  and  that  proved 
what  a  miser  he  was ;  and  how  much  he  was  to  be 
trusted  when  he  promised  to  pay  what  he  owed 
people.  Padron  'Ntoni  went  back  to  the  town- 
clerk  and  to  the  lawyer  Scipione,  but  he  laughed 
in  his  face  and  told  him  that  he  was  a  fool  for  his 
pains ;  that  he  should  never  have  let  his  daughter- 
in-law  give  in  to  it,  and  as  he  had  made  his  bed  so 
he  must  lie  down. 

"Woe  to  the  fallen  man  who  asks  for  help!" 
"Listen  to  me,"  suggested  Don  Silvestro.  "You'd 


140  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

better  let  them  have  the  house ;  if  not,  they'll 
take  the  Provvidenza  and  everything  else,  even  to 
the  hair  off  your  head ;  and  you  lose  all  your 
time,  besides,  running  backward  and  forward  to 
the  lawyer." 

"  If  you  give  up  the  house  quietly,"  said  Goose- 
foot  to  the  old  man,  "we'll  leave  you  the  Provvi- 
denza^  and  you'll  be  able  to  earn  your  bread  and  will 
remain  master  of  your  ship,  and  not  be  troubled 
with  any  more  stamped  paper." 

After  all,  Cousin  Tino  wasn't  such  a  bad  fellow. 
He  went  on  talking  to  Padron  'Ntoni  as  if  it  hadn't 
been  his  affair  at  all,  passing  his  arm  over  his 
shoulder  and  saying  to  him,  "  Pardon  me,  brother, 
I  am  more  sorry  than  you  are ;  it  goes  to  my  heart 
to  turn  you  out  of  your  house,  but  what  can  I  do  ? 
I'm  only  a  poor  devil ;  I'm  not  rich,  like  Uncle 
Crucifix.  If  those  five  hundred  lire  hadn't  come 
actually  out  of  my  very  mouth,  I  would  never 
have  troubled  you  about  them — upon  my  word  I 
wouldn't." 

The  poor  old  man  hadn't  the  courage  to  tell  his 
daughter-in-law  that  she  must  go  "  quietly "  out  of 
the  house  by  the  medlar-tree.  After  so  many  years 
that  they  had  been  there,  it  was  like  going  into 
banishment,  or  like  those  who  had  gone  away 
meaning  to  come  back,  and  had  come  back  no 
more.  And  there  was  Luca's  bed  there,  and  the 
nail  where  Bastianazzo's  pea-jacket  used  to  hang. 
But  at  last  the  time  came  that  they  had  to  move, 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  141 

with  all  those  poor  sticks  of.  furniture,  and  take 
them  out  of  their  old  places,  where  each  left  a  mark 
on  the  wall  where  it  had  stood,  and  the  house  with- 
out them  looked  strange  and  unlike  itself.  They 
carried  their  things  out  by  night  into  the  sexton's 
cottage,  which  they  had  hired,  as  if  everybody  in 
the  place  didn't  know  that  now  the  house  belonged 
no  more  to  them  but  to  Goosefoot,  and  that  they 
had  to  move  away  from  it.  But  at  all  events  no 
one  saw  them  carrying  their  things  from  one  house 
to  the  other.  Every  time  the  old  man  pulled  out 
a  nail,  or  moved  a  cupboard  from  the  corner  where 
it  was  used  to  stand,  he  shook  his  poor  old  head. 
Then  the  others,  when  all  was  done,  sat  down  upon 
a  heap  of  straw  in  the  middle  of  the  room  to  rest, 
and  looked  about  here  and  there  to  see  if  anything 
had  been  forgotten.  But  the  grandfather  could 
not  stay  inside,  and  went  out  into  the  court  in  the 
open  air.  But  there,  too,  was  the  scattered  straw 
and  broken  crockery  and  coils  of  old  rope,  and  in 
a  corner  the  medlar-tree  and  the  vine  hanging  in 
clusters  over  the  door.  "  Come,  boys,  let's  go. 
Sooner  or  later  we  must,"  and  never  moved. 

Maruzza  looked  at  the  door  of  the  court  out  of 
which  Luca  and  Bastianazzo  had  gone  for  the  last 
time,  and  the  lane  where  she  had  watched  her  boy 
go  off  through  the  rain,  with  his  trousers  turned 
up,  and  then  thought  how  the  oil -skin  cape  had 
hidden  him  from  her  view.  Cousin  Alfio  Mosca's 
window,  too,  was  shut  close,  and  the  vine  hung  over 


142  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

the  way,  so  that  every  one  who  passed  by  plucked 
off  its  grapes. 

Each  one  had  something  in  the  house  which  it 
was  specially  hard  to  leave,  and  the  old  man,  in 
passing  out,  laid  his  head  softly,  in  the  dark,  on  the 
old  door,  which  Uncle  Crucifix  had  said  was  in 
need  of  a  good  piece  of  wood  and  a  handful  of 
nails. 

Uncle  Crucifix  had  come  to  look  over  the  house, 
and  Goosefoot  with  him,  and  they  talked  loud  in 
the  empty  rooms,  where  the  voices  rang  as  if  they 
had  been  in  a  church. 

Cousin  Tino  hadn't  been  able  to  live  all  that 
time  upon  air,  and  had  sold  everything  to  old 
Dumb-bell  to  get  back  his  money. 

"What  can  I  do,  Cousin  Malavoglia ?"  he  said, 
passing  his  arm  over  his  shoulder.  "  You  know  Tin 
only  a  poor  devil,  and  can't  spare  five  hundred  lire. 
If  you  had  been  rich  I'd  have  sold  the  house  to 
you." 

But  Padron  'Ntoni  couldn't  bear  to  go  about  the 
house  like  that,  with  Goosefoot's  arm  on  his  shoul- 
der. Now  Uncle  Crucifix  was  come  with  the  car- 
penter and  the  mason  and  a  lot  of  people,  who  ran 
about  the  place  as  if  they  had  been  in  the  public 
square,  and  said,  "  Here  must  go  bricks,  here  a 
new  beam,  here  the  floor  must  all  be  done  over," 
as  if  they  had  been  the  masters.  And  they  talked, 
too,  of  whitewashing  it  all  over,  and  making  it  look 
quite  a  different  thing. 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  143 

Uncle  Crucifix  went  about  kicking  the  straw  and 
the  broken  rubbish  out  of  the  way,  and  picking  up 
off  the  floor  a  bit  of  an  old  hat  that  had  belonged 
to  Bastianazzo,  he  flung  it  out  of  the  window  into 
the  garden,  saying  it  was  good  for  manure.  The 
medlar-tree  rustled  softly  meanwhile,  and  the  gar- 
lands of  daisies,  now  withered,  that  had  been  put 
up  at  Whitsuntide,  still  hung  over  the  windows  and 
the  door. 

From  this  time  the  Malavoglia  never  showed 
themselves  in  the  street  or  at  church,  and  went  all 
the  way  to  Aci  Castello  to  the  mass,  and  no  one 
spoke  to  them  any  more,  not  even  Padron  Cipolla, 
who  went  about  saying :  "  Padron  'Ntoni  had  no 
right  to  play  me  such  a  trick  as  that.  That  was 
real  cheating  to  let  his  daughter-in-law  give  up 
her  rights  for  the  sake  of  the  debt  for  the  lupins." 

"Just  what  my  wife  says,"  added  Master  Zup- 
piddu.  "  She  says  even  the  dogs  in  the  street 
wouldn't  have  any  of  the  Malavoglia  now." 

All  the  same,  that  young  heathen  Brasi  howled 
and  swore  that  he  wanted  Mena;  she  had  been 
promised  him,  and  he  would  have  her,  and  he 
stamped  and  stormed  like  a  baby  before  a  toy- 
shop at  a  fair. 

"Do  you  think  I  stole  my  property,  you  lazy 
hound,  that  you  .want  to  fling  it  away  with  a  lot  of 
beggars?"  shouted  his  father. 

They  even  took  back  Brasi's  new  clothes,  and 
he  worked  out  his  ill-temper  by  chasing  lizards  on 


144     THE  HOUSE  BY  THE  MEDLAR-TREE. 

the  down,  or  sitting  astride  of  the  wall  by  the 
washing-tank,  swearing  that  he  wouldn't  do  a  hand's 
turn — no,  that  he  wouldn't,  not  if  they  killed  him 
for  it,  now  that  they  wouldn't  give  him  his  wife, 
and  they  had  taken  back  even  his  wedding-clothes. 
Fortunately,  Mena  couldn't  see  him  looking  as  he 
did  now,  for  the  Malavoglia  always  kept  the  door 
shut  down  there  at  the  sexton's  cottage,  which  they 
had  hired,  in  the  black  street  near  the  Zuppiddi; 
and  if  Brasi  chanced  to  see  any  of  them,  if  it  were 
ever  so  far  off,  he  ran  to  hide  himself  behind  a  wall 
or  among  the  prickly-pears. 

Mena  was  quite  tranquil,  however — there  was  so 
much  to  do  in  the  new  house,  where  they  had  to 
find  places  for  all  the  old  things,  and  where  there 
was  no  longer  the  medlar-tree ;  nor  could  one  see 
Cousin  Anna's  door,  or  Nunziata's.  Her  mother 
watched  over  her  like  a  brooding  bird  while  they 
sat  working  together,  and  her  voice  was  like  a  ca- 
ress when  she  said  to  her,  "Give  me  the  scis- 
sors," or,  "Hold  this  skein  for  me";  so  that  the 
child  felt  it  in  her  inmost  heart,  now  that  every  one 
turned  away  from  them ;  but  the  girl  sang  like  a 
lark,  for  she  was  but  eighteen,  and  at  that  age,  if  the 
sun  do  but  shine,  everything  seems  bright  and  the 
singing  of  the  birds  is  in  one's  heart.  Besides,  she 
had  never  really  cared  for  "that  person,"  she  said 
to  her  mother  in  a  whisper  as  they  bent  together 
over  the  loom.  Her  mother  had  been  the  only  one 
who  had  really  understood  her,  and  had  had  a  kind 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  145 

word  for  her  in  that  hard  time.  At  least  if  Cousin 
Alfio  had  been  there  he  would  not  have  turned  his 
back  upon  them. 

So  goes  the  world.  Every  one  must  look  out 
for  himself,  and  so  said  Cousin  Venera  to  Padron 
'Ntoni's  'Ntoni — "  Every  one  must  see  to  his  own 
beard  first,  and  then  to  the  others.  Your  grandfa- 
ther gives  you  nothing ;  what  claim  has  he  on  you  ? 
If  you  marry,  that  means  that  you  must  set  up 
house  for  yourself,  and  what  you  earn  must  be  for 
your  own  house  and  your  own  family.  '  Many 
hands  are  a  blessing,  but  not  all  in  one  dish.' " 

"That  would  be  a  fine  thing  to  do,  to  be  sure," 
answered  'Ntoni.  "  Now  that  my  relations  are  on 
the  street,  am  I  to  throw  them  over?  How  is  my 
grandfather  to  manage  the  Provvidenza  and  to  feed 
them  all  without  me  ?" 

"  Then  get  out  of  it  the  best  way  you  can  !"  ex- 
claimed La  Zuppidda,  turning  away  from  him  to 
hunt  over  the  drawers,  or  in  the  kitchen,  upsetting 
everything  here  and  there,  making  believe  to  be 
ever  so  busy,  not  to  have  to  look  him  in  the  face. 
"  I  didn't  steal  my  daughter.  You  can  go  on  by 
yourselves,  because  you  are  young  and  strong  and 
can  work,  and  have  your  trade  at  your  finger- 
ends — all  the  more  now  that  there  are  so  few  young 
men,  with  this  devil  of  a  conscription  sweeping  off 
all  the  village  every  year ;  but  if  I'm  to  give  you 
the  dowry  to  spend  it  on  your  own  people,  that's 
another  affair.  I  mean  to  give  my  daughter  to  one 


146  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

husband,  not  to  five  or  six,  and  I  don't  mean  she 
shall  have  two  families  on  her  shoulders." 

Barbara,  in  the  other  room,  feigned  not  to  hear, 
and  went  on  plying  her  shuttle  briskly  all  the  time. 
But  if  'Ntoni  appeared  at  the  door,  she  cast  down 
her  eyes  and  wouldn't  look  at  him.  The  poor  fel- 
low turned  yellow  and  green  and  all  sorts  of  colors, 
for  she  had  caught  him,  like  a  limed  sparrow,  with 
those  great  black  eyes  of  hers,  and  then  she  said 
to  him  after  her  mother  was  gone,  "  I'm  sure  you 
don't  love  me  as  much  as  you  do  your  own  people  !"' 
and  began  to  cry,  with  her  apron  over  her  head. 

"  I  swear,"  exclaimed  'Ntoni,  "  I  wish  I  could  go 
back  to  soldiering  again !"  and  tore  his  hair  and 
thumped  himself  in  the  head,  but  couldn't  come  to 
any  decision  one  way  or  the  other,  like  the  pump- 
kin-head that  he  was. 

"  Then,"  cried  the  Zuppidda,  "  come,  come !  each 
to  his  own  home !"  And  her  husband  went  on  re- 
peating : 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  I  didn't  choose  to  have  a 
fuss  ?" 

"  You  be  off  to  your  work !"  replied  she.  "  You 
know  nothing  about  it." 

'Ntoni,  every  time  he  went  to  the  Zuppiddi,  found 
them  in  an  ill-humor,  and  Cousin  Venera  went  on 
throwing  in  his  face  that  time  that  his  people  had 
asked  Goosefoot's  wife  to  dress  Mena's  hair — and 
a  fine  hair -dressing  they'd  made  of  it! — licking 
Cousin  Tino's  boots  because  of  that  twopenny 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  147 

business  of  the  house,  and  he'd  taken  the  house 
all  the  same. 

"  Then,  Cousin  Venera,  if  you  speak  in  this  way,  I 
suppose  you  mean,  '  I  don't  want  you  in  my  house 
any  longer.'  " 

'Ntoni  meant  to  play  the  man,  and  did  not  show 
himself  again  for  two  or  three  days.  But  little  Lia, 
who  knew  nothing  of  all  this  chatter,  still  continued 
to  go  to  play  in  the  court  at  Cousin  Venera's,  as 
they  had  taught  her  to  do  in  the  days  when  Bar- 
bara used  to  give  her  chestnuts  and  Indian  figs  for 
love  of  her  brother  'Ntoni,  only  now  they  gave  her 
nothing.  And  La  Zuppidda  said  to  her :  "  Have 
you  come  here  to  look  for  your  brother  ?  Does 
your  mother  think  we  want  to  steal  your  precious 
brother  ?" 

Things  came  to  such  a  pass  that  La  Longa  and 
La  Venera  did  not  speak,  and  turned  their  backs 
upon  each  other  if  they  met  at  church. 

'Ntoni,  bewitched  by  Barbara's  eyes,  went  back 
to  stand  before  the  windows,  trying  to  make  peace, 
so  that  Cousin  Venera  threatened  to  fling  water 
over  him  one  time  or  another;  and  even  her  daugh- 
ter shrugged  her  shoulders  at  him,  now  that  the 
Malavoglia  had  neither  king  nor  kingdom. 

And  she  said  it  to  his  face,  too,  to  be  rid  of  him, 
for  he  stood  like  a  dog  always  in  front  of  the  win- 
dow, and  might  stand  in  the  way  of  a  better  match, 
too,  if  any  one  were  to  come  that  way  for  her. 

"  Now  then,  Cousin  'Ntoni,  '  the  fish  of  the  sea 


148  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

are  destined  for  those  who  shall  eat  them ';  let's 
make  up  our  minds  to  say  good-bye,  and  have  it 
over." 

"  You  may  say  good-bye  to  it  all,  Cousin  Barbara, 
but  I  can't.  Love  isn't  over  so  easily  as  that  with 
me." 

"Try.  I  guess  you  can  manage  it.  There's 
nothing  like  trying.  I  wish  you  all  the  good  in  the 
world,  but  leave  me  to  look  after  my  own  affairs, 
for  I  am  already  twenty-two." 

"  I  knew  it  would  come  to  this  when  they  took 
our  house,  and  everybody  turned  their  backs  on 
us." 

"Listen,  Cousin  'Ntoni.  My  mother  may  come 
at  any  minute,  and  it  won't  do  for  her  to  find  you 
here." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know;  now  that  they've  taken  our 
house,  it  isn't  fair."  Poor  'Ntoni's  heart  was  full; 
he  couldn't  bear  to  part  from  her  like  that.  But 
she  had  to  go  to  the  fountain  to  fill  her  pitcher, 
and  she  said  adieu  to  him,  walking  off  quickly, 
swaying  lightly  as  she  went ;  for  though  they  were 
called  hobblers  because  her  great-grandfather  had 
broken  his  leg  in  a  collision  of  wagons  at  the  fair 
of  Trecastagni,  Barbara  had  both  her  legs,  and 
very  good  ones  too. 

"Adieu,  Cousin  Barbara,"  said  the  poor  fellow; 
and  so  he  put  a  stone  over  all  that  had  been,  and 
went  back  to  his  oar  like  a  galley-slave — and  gal- 
ley-slave's work  it  was  from  Monday  morning  till 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  149 

Saturday  night — and  he  was  tired  of  wearing  out 
his  soul  for  nothing,  for  when  one  has  nothing,  what 
good  can  come  of  driving  away  from  morning  till 
night,  with  never  a  dog  to  be  friends  with  one  either, 
and  for  that  he  had  had  enough  of  such  a  life.  He 
preferred  rather  to  do  nothing  at  all,  and  stay  in 
bed,  as  if  he  were  sick,  as  they  did  on  board  ship 
when  the  service  was  too  hard,  for  the  grandpapa 
wouldn't  come  to  pull  him  and  thump  him  like  the 
ship's  doctor. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Nothing.     Only  I'm  a  poor  miserable  devil." 

"And  what  can  be  done  for  you,  if  you  are  a 
poor  miserable  devil  ?  We  must  go  on  as  we  come 
into  the  world." 

He  let  himself  be  loaded  down  with  tackle,  like 
a  beast  of  burden,  and  the  whole  day  long  never 
opened  his  mouth  except  to  growl  and  to  swear. 

On  Sunday  'Ntoni  went  hanging  about  the  tav- 
ern, where  people  did  nothing  but  laugh  and  amuse 
themselves;  or  else  he  sat  for  whole  hours  on  the 
church  steps,  with  his  chin  in  his  hands,  watching 
the  people  passing  by,  and  pondering  over  this 
hard  life,  where  there  was  nothing  to  be  got  by 
doing  anything. 

At  least  on  Sunday  there  was  something  that  cost 
nothing — the  sun,  the  standing  idle  with  hands  in 
one's  pockets ;  and  then  he  grew  tired  even  of 
thinking  of  his  hard  fate,  and  longing  to  bask  again 
in  the  strange  places  he  had  seen  when  he  was  a 


150  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

soldier,  and  with  the  memory  of  which  he  amused 
himself  on  working-days.  He  only  cared  to  lie  like 
a  lizard  basking  in  the  sun.  And  when  the  carters 
passed,  sitting  on  their  shafts,  he  muttered,  "They 
have  an  easy  time  of  it,  driving  about  like  that 
all  day  long  ";  and  when  some  poor  little  old  wom- 
an came  from  the  town,  bent  down  under  her  heavy 
burden  like  a  tired  donkey,  lamenting  as  she  went, 
as  is  the  manner  of  the  old,  he  said  to  her,  by  way 
of  consolation : 

"  I  would  be  willing  to  take  your  work,  my  sister; 
after  all,  it  is  like  going  out  for  a  walk." 

Padron  'Ntoni  would  go  off  to  old  Crucifix,  say- 
ing to  him  over  and  over  again,  at  least  a  hundred 
times :  "  You  know,  Uncle  Crucifix,  if  we  can  manage 
to  put  the  money  together  for  the  house  you  must 
sell  it  to  us  and  to  nobody  else,  for  it  has  always 
belonged  to  the  Malavoglia,  and  'his  own  nest 
every  bird  likes  best,'  and  I  long  to  die  in  my 
own  bed.  '  Blest  is  he  who  dies  in  the  bed  where 
he  was  born.' " 

Uncle  Crucifix  muttered  something  which  sound- 
ed like  "Yes,"  not  to  compromise  himself,  and  then 
would  go  off  and  put  a  new  tile  or  a  patch  of  lime 
on  the  wall  of  the  court,  to  make  an  excuse  for  rais- 
ing the  price  of  the  house. 

Uncle  Crucifix  would  reassure  him  in  this  way : 
"  Never  fear,  never  fear;  the  house  won't  run  away, 
you  know.  Only  keep  an  eye  upon  it.  Every  one 
should  keep  an  eye  upon  whatever  he  sets  store 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  151 

by."  And  once  he  went  on,  "Isn't  your  Mena  go- 
ing to  be  married  ?" 

"  She  shall  be  married  when  it  shall  please  God," 
replied  Padron  'Ntoni.  "  For  my  part,  I  should  be 
glad  if  it  were  to  be  to-morrow." 

"  If  I  were  you  I  would  give  her  to  Alfio  Mosca; 
he's  a  nice  young  fellow,  honest  and  hard-working, 
always  looking  out  for  a  wife  everywhere  he  goes ; 
it  is  the  only  fault  he  has.  Now  they  say  he's  com- 
ing back  to  the  place.  He's  cut  out  for  your  grand- 
daughter." 

"  But  they  said  he  wanted  to  marry  your  niece 
Vespa." 

"You  too!  You  too!"  Dumb-bell  began  to 
scream,  in  his  cracked  voice.  "Who  says  so? 
That's  all  idle  chatter.  He  wants  to  get  hold  of 
her  ground,  that's  what  he  wants  !  A  pretty  thing 
that  would  be !  How  would  you  like  me  to  sell 
your  house  to  somebody  else  ?" 

And  Goosefoot,  who  was  always  hanging  about 
the  piazza,  ready  to  put  in  his  oar  whenever  he  saw 
two  people  talking  together,  broke  in  with,  "  Vespa 
has  Brasi  Cipolla  in  her  head  just  now,  since  his 
marriage  with  Sant'Agata  is  broken  off.  I  saw  them 
with  my  own  eyes  walking  down  the  path  by  the 
stream  together." 

"A  nice  lot,  eh?"  screamed  Uncle  Crucifix,  quite 
forgetting  his  deafness.  "  That  witch  is  the  devil 
himself.  We  must  tell  Padron  Fortunato  about  it, 
that  we  must.  Are  we  honest  men,  or  are  we  not  ? 


152  THE    HOUSE   BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

If  Padron  Fortunato  doesn't  look  out,  that  witch  of 
a  niece  of  mine  will  carry  off  his  son  before  his 
eyes,  poor  old  fellow." 

And  off  he  ran  up  the  street  like  a  madman.  In 
less  than  ten  minutes  Uncle  Crucifix  had  turned 
the  place  topsy-turvy,  wanting  to  call  Don  Michele 
and  his  guest  to  look  up  his  niece  ;  for,  after  all,  she 
was  his  niece,  and  belonged  to  him,  and  wasn't  Don 
Michele  paid  to  look  after  what  belonged  to  honest 
men  ?  Everybody  laughed  to  see  Padron  Cipolla 
running  hither  and  thither,  panting  like  a  dog  with 
his  tongue  out,  after  his  great  lout  of  a  son,  and 
said  it  was  no  more  than  he  deserved  that  his  son 
should  be  snapped  up  by  the  Wasp  when  he  thought 
Victor  Emmanuel's  daughter  hardly  good  enough 
for  him,  and  had  broken  off  with  the  Malavoglia 
without  even  saying  "by  your  leave." 

Mena  had  not  put  on  mourning,  however,  when 
her  marriage  went  off;  on  the  contrary,  she  began 
once  more  to  sing  at  her  loom,  and  while  she  was 
helping  to  salt  down  the  anchovies  in  the  fine  sum- 
mer evenings,  for  Saint  Francis  had  sent  that  year 
such  a  provision  as  never  was — a  passage  of  ancho- 
vies such  as  no  one  could  remember  in  any  past 
year,  enough  to  enrich  the  whole  place ;  the  barks 
came  in  loaded,  with  the  men  on  board  singing  and 
shouting  and  waving  their  caps  above  their  heads 
in  sign  of  success  to  the  women  and  children  who 
waited  for  them  on  the  shore. 

The  buyers   came  from  the  city  in  crowds,  on 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  153 

foot,  on  horseback,  and  in  carts  and  wagons,  and 
Goosefoot  hadn't  even  time  to  scratch  his  head. 
Towards  sunset  there  was  a  crowd  like  a  fair,  and 
cries  and  jostling  and  pushing  so  as  no  one  ever 
saw  the  like.  In  the  Malavoglia's  court  the  lights 
were  burning  until  midnight,  as  if  there  were  a  festa 
there.  The  girls  sang,  and  the  neighbors  came  to 
help  their  cousin  Anna's  daughters  and  Nunziata, 
because  every  one  could  earn  something,  and  along 
the  wall  were  four  ranges  of  barrels  all  ready  pre- 
pared, with  stones  on  the  top  of  them. 

"  I  wish  the  Zuppidda  were  here  now  !"  exclaimed 
'Ntoni,  sitting  on  the  stones  to  make  weight,  and 
folding  his  arms  ;  "  then  she  would  see  that  we  can 
manage  for  ourselves  as  good  as  anybody,  and  snap 
our  fingers  at  Don  Michele  and  Don  Silvestro." 

The  buyers  ran  after  Padron  'Ntoni  with  money 
down  in  their  hands.  Goosefoot  pulled  him  by  the 
sleeve,  saying,  "  Now's  your  time ;  make  your  profit 
while  you  can." 

But  Padron  'Ntoni  would  only  answer:  "Wait  till 
All  Saints,  that's  the  time  to  sell  anchovies.  No,  I 
won't  take  earnest -money.  I  don't  mean  to  be 
tied ;  I  know  how  things  will  go."  And  he  thumped 
on  the  barrels  with  his  fist,  saying  to  his  grand- 
children:  "  Here  is  your  house  and  Mena's  dowry; 
and  the  old  house  is  ready  to  take  you  to  its  arms. 
Saint  Francis  has  been  merciful.  I  shall  close  my 
eyes  in  peace." 

At  the  same  time  they  had  made  all  their  provi- 


154  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

sion  for  the  winter — grain,  beans,  oil — and  had  given 
earnest  to  Don  Filippo  for  a  little  wine  for  Sun- 
days. Now  they  were  tranquil  once  more.  Father 
and  daughter-in-law  began  once  more  to  count  the 
money  in  the  stocking,  and  the  barrels  ranged 
against  the  wall  of  the  court,  and  made  their  calcu- 
lations as  to  what  more  was  needed  for  the  house. 
Maruzza  knew  the  money,  coin  from  coin,  and  said, 
"  This  from  the  oranges  and  eggs  ;  this  from  Ales- 
sio  for  work  at  the  railroad;  this  Mena  earned  at 
the  loom;"  and  she  said,  too,  "Each  has  something 
here  from  his  own  work." 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you,"  said  Padron  'Ntoni,  "that  to 
pull  a  good  oar  all  the  five  fingers  must  help  each 
other  ?  Now  there  is  but  little  more  needed."  And 
then  he  would  go  off  into  a  corner  with  La  Longa, 
and  they  would  have  a  great  confabulation,  looking 
from  time  to  time  at  Sant'Agata,  who  deserved, 
poor  child,  that  they  should  talk  of  her,  because  she 
had  neither  word  nor  will  of  her  own,  and  attended 
to  her  work,  singing  softly  under  her  breath  like  a 
bird  on  its  nest  before  the  break  of  morning ;  and 
only  when  she  heard  the  carts  pass  on  the  high- 
road in  the  evening  she  thought  of  Cousin  Alfio 
Mosca's  cart,  that  was  wandering  about  the  wide 
world,  she  knew  not  where ;  and  then  she  stopped 
singing. 

In  the  whole  place  nothing  was  seen  but  men 
carrying  nets  and  women  sitting  in  their  doors 
pounding  salt  and  broken  bricks  together;  and  be- 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  155 

fore  every  door  was  a  row  of  tiny  barrels,  so  that  it 
was  a  real  pleasure  to  a  Christian  to  snuff  the  pre- 
cious odor  as  he  passed,  and  for  a  mile  away  the 
breath  of  the  gifts  of  the  blessed  Saint  Francis 
floated  on  the  breeze ;  there  was  nothing  talked  of 
but  anchovies  and  brine,  even  in  the  drug- store, 
where  all  the  affairs  of  all  the  world  were  discussed. 
Don  Franco  wanted  to  teach  them  a  new  way  of 
salting  down,  a  receipt  which  he  had  found  in  a 
book.  They  turned  their  backs  on  him,  and  left 
him  storming  like  a  madman.  Since  the  world  was 
a  world,  anchovies  had  always  been  cured  with  salt 
and  pounded  bricks. 

"  The  usual  cry  !  My  grandfather  used  to  do  it," 
the  druggist  went  on  shouting  at  them.  "You 
want  nothing  but  tails  to  be  complete  asses  !  What 
is  to  be  done  with  such  a  lot  as  this  ?  And  they 
are  quite  contented,  too,  with  Master  Croce  Giufa 
(which  means  oaf),  because  he  has  always  been 
syndic  ;  they  would  be  capable  of  saying  that  they 
didn't  want  a  republic  because  they  had  never  seen 
one."  This  speech  he  repeated  to  Don  Silvestro 
on  a  certain  occasion  when  they  had  a  conversation 
without  witnesses.  That  is  to  say,  Don  Franco 
talked,  and  Don  Silvestro  listened  in  silence.  He 
afterwards  learned  that  Don  Silvestro  had  broken 
with  Betta,  the  syndic's  daughter,  because  she  in- 
sisted on  being  syndic  herself;  and  her  father  let 
her  wear  the  breeches,  so  that  he  said  white  to-day 
and  black  to-morrow. 


156  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 


X. 


'NTONI  went  out  to  sea  every  blessed  day,  and 
had  to  row,  tiring  his  back  dreadfully.  But  when 
the  sea  was  high,  and  fit  to  swallow  them  all  at  one 
gulp — them,  the  Provvidenza,  and  everything  else — 
that  boy  had  a  heart  as  brave  as  the  sea  itself — 
"  Malavoglia  blood !" — said  his  grandfather;  and  it 
was  fine  to  see  him  at  work  in  a  storm,  with  the 
wind  whistling  through  his  hair,  while  the  bark 
sprang  over  the  big  waves  like  a  porpoise  in  the 
spring. 

The  Provvidenza  often  ventured  out  into  blue 
water,  old  and  patched  though  she  was,  after  that 
little  handful  of  fish  which  was  hard  to  find,  now 
that  the  sea  was  swept  from  side  to  side  as  if  with 
brooms.  Even  on  those  dark  days  when  the  clouds 
hung  low  over  Agnone,  and  the  horizon  to  the  east 
was  full  of  black  shadows,  the  sail  of  the  Provvi- 
denza might  be  seen  like  a  white  handkerchief 
against  the  leaden-colored  sea,  and  everybody  said 
that  Padron  'Ntoni's  people  went  out  to  look  for 
trouble,  like  the  old  woman  with  a  lamp. 

Padron  'Ntoni  replied  that  he  went  out  to  look 
for  bread ;  and  when  the  corks  disappeared  one  by 
one  in  the  wide  sea,  gleaming  green  as  grass,  and 
the  houses  of  Trezza  looked  like  a  little  white 
spot,  so  far  off  were  they,  and  there  was  nothing 
all  around  them  but  water,  he  began  to  talk  to  his 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  157 

grandsons  in  sheer  pleasure.  La  Longa  and  the 
others  would  come  down  to  the  beach  to  meet  them 
on  the  shore  as  soon  as  they  saw  the  sail  rounding 
the  Fariglione;  and  when  they  too  had  been  to  look 
at  the  fish  flashing  through  the  nets,  and  looking 
as  if  the  bottom  of  the  boat  were  full  of  molten 
silver;  and  Padron  'Ntoni  replied  before  any  one 
had  asked,  u  Yes,  a  quintal  or  a  quintal  twenty-five" 
(generally  right,  even  to  an  ounce) ;  and  then  they'd 
sit  talking  about  it  all  the  evening,  while  the  women 
pounded  salt  in  the  wooden  mortars ;  and  when  they 
counted  the  little  barrels  ona  by  one,  and  Uncle 
Crucifix  came  in  to  see  how  they  had  got  on,  to 
make  his  offer,  so,  with  his  eyes  shut;  and  Goosefoot 
came  too,  screaming  and  scolding  about  the  right 
price,  and  the  just  price,  and  so  on;  then  they  didn't 
mind  his  screaming,  because,  after  all,  it  was  a  pity 
to  quarrel  with  old  friends ;  and  then  La  Longa 
would  go  on  counting  out  sou  by  sou  the  money 
which  Goosefoot  had  brought  in  his  handkerchief, 
saying,  "  These  are  for  the  house  ;  these  are  for  the 
every-day  expenses,"  and  so  on.  Mena  would  help, 
too,  to  pound  the  salt  and  to  count  the  barrels,  and 
she  should  get  back  her  blue  jacket  and  her  coral 
necklace,  that  had  been  pawned  to  Uncle  Crucifix ; 
and  the  women  could  go  back  to  their  own  church 
again,  for  if  any  young  man  happened  to  look  after 
Mena,  her  dowry  was  getting  ready. 

"  For  my  part,"  said  'Ntoni,  rowing  slowly,  slowly 
round  and  round,  so  that  the  current  should  not 


158  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

drive  him  out  of  the  circle  of  the  net,  while  the  old 
man  pondered  silently  over  all  these  things — "  for 
my  part,  all  I  wish  is  that  hussy  Barbara  may  be  left 
to  gnaw  her  elbows  when  we  have  got  back  our  own 
again,  and  may  live  to  repent  shutting  the  door  in 
my  face." 

"  In  the  storm  one  knows  the  good  pilot,"  said 
the  old  man.  "  When  we  are  once  more  what  we 
have  always  been,  every  one  will  bear  a  smooth  face 
for  us,  and  will  open  their  doors  to  us  once  more." 

"  There  were  two  who  did  not  shut  their  doors," 
said  Alessio,  "  Nunziata  and  our  cousin  Anna." 

"  '  In  prison,  in  poverty,  and  in  sickness  one  finds 
one's  friends';  for  that  may  the  Lord  help  them, 
too,  and  all  the  mouths  they  have  to  feed!" 

"  When  Nunziata  goes  out  on  the  downs  to 
gather  wood,  or  when  the  rolls  of  linen  are  too 
heavy  for  her,  I  go  and  help  her  too,  poor  little 
thing,"  said  Alessio. 

"  Come  and  help  now  to  pull  in  this  side,  for  this 
time  Saint  Francis  has  really  sent  us  the  gift  of 
God  !"  and  the  boy  pulled  and  puffed,  with  his  feet 
braced  against  the  side  of  the  boat,  so  that  one 
would  have  thought  he  was  doing  it  all  himself. 
Meanwhile  'Ntoni  lay  stretched  on  the  deck  sing- 
ing to  himself,  with  his  hands  under  his  head,  watch- 
ing the  white  gulls  flying  against  the  blue  sky, 
which  had  no  end,  it  rose  so  pure  and  so  high,  and 
the  Provvidenza  rushed  on  the  green  waves  rolling 
in  from  farther  than  the  eye  could  see. 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  159 

"  What  is  the  reason,"  said  Alessio,  "  that  the  sea 
is  sometimes  blue  and  sometimes  green  and  then 
white,  then  again  black  as  the  sand  of  the  beach, 
and  is  never,all  one  color,  as  water  should  be  ?" 

"  It  is  the  will  of  God,"  replied  the  grandfather, 
"  so  the  mariner  can  tell  when  he  may  safely  put 
out  to  sea,  and  when  it  is  best  to  stay  on  shore." 

"  Those  gulls  have  a  fine  time  of  it,  flying  in  the 
air;  they  need  not  fear  the  waves  when  the  wind  is 

high."  ' 

"  But  they  have  nothing  to  eat,  either,  poor 
beasts." 

"  So  every  one  has  need  of  good  weather,  like 
Nunziata,  who  can't  go  to  the  fountain  when  it 
rains,"  concluded  Alessio. 

"Neither  good  nor  bad  weather  lasts  forever," 
observed  the  old  man. 

But  when  bad  weather  came,  and  the  mistral 
blew,  and  the  corks  went  dancing  on  the  water  all 
day  long  as  if  the  devil  were  playing  the  violin  for 
them,  or  if  the  sea  was  white  as  milk,  or  bubbling 
up  as  if  it  were  boiling,  and  the  rain  came  pouring 
down  upon  them  until  evening,  so  that  no  wraps 
were  proof  against  it,  and  the  sea  went  frying  all 
about  them  like  oil  in  the  pan,  then  it  was  another 
pair  of  shoes  —  and  'Ntoni  was  in  no  humor  for 
singing,  with  his  hood  down  to  his  nose,  bailing  out 
the  Provvidenza,  that  filled  faster  than  he  could 
clear  out  the  water,  and  the  grandpapa  went  on  re- 
peating, "White  sea,  sirocco  there'll  be  !"  or  "Curly 


l6o  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

sea,  fresh  wind  !"  as  if  he  had  come  there  only  to 
learn  proverbs ;  and  with  these  blessed  proverbs, 
too,  he'd  stand  in  the  evening  at  the  window  look- 
ing out  for  the  weather,  with  his  nose  in  the  air, 
and  say,  "  When  the  moon  is  red  it  means  wind ; 
when  it  is  clear,  fine  weather ;  when  it  is  pale  it 
means  rain." 

"  If  you  know  it  is  going  to  rain,"  said  'Ntoni, 
one  day,  "  why  do  we  go  out,  while  we  might  stay  in 
bed  an  hour  or  two  longer  ?" 

"  i  Water  from  the  sky,  sardines  in  the  net,' "  an- 
swered the  old  man. 

Later  on  'Ntoni  began  to  curse  and  swear,  with 
the  water  half  up  to  his  knees. 

"  This  evening,"  said  his  grandfather,  "  Maruzza 
will  have  a  good  fire  ready  for  us,  and  we  shall 
soon  be  quite  dry." 

And  at  dusk  when  the  Provvidenza,  with  her  hull 
full  of  the  gifts  of  God,  turned  towards  home,  with 
her  sail  puffing  out  like  Donna  Rosolina's  best  pet- 
ticoat, and  the  lights  of  the  village  came  twinkling 
one  by  one  from  behind  the  dark  rocks  as  if  they 
were  beckoning  to  each  other,  Padron 'Ntoni  showed 
his  boys  the  bright  fire  which  burned  in  La  Longa's 
kitchen  at  the  bottom  of  the  tiny  court  in  the  nar- 
row black  street;  for  the  wall  was  low,  and  from  the 
sea  the  whole  house  was  visible,  with  the  tiles  built 
into  a  shed  for  the  hens,  and  the  oven  on  the  other 
side  of  the  door. 

"  Don't  you  see  what  a  blaze  La  Longa  has  got 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  l6l 

up  for  us  ?"  said  he,  in  high  spirits;  and  La  Longa 
was  waiting  for  them,  with  the  baskets  ready.  When 
they  were  brought  back  empty  there  wasn't  much 
talking;  but  instead,  if  there  were  not  enough,  and 
Alessio  had  to  run  up  to  the  house  for  more,  the 
grandfather  would  put  his  hands  to  his  mouth  and 
shout,  "Mena  !  Oh,  Mena !"  And  Mena  knew  well 
what  it  meant,  and  they  all  came  down  in  proces- 
sion—  she,  Lia,  and  Nunziata,  too,  with  all  her 
chicks  behind  her ;  then  there  was  great  joy,  and 
nobody  minded  cold  or  rain,  and  before  the  blazing 
fire  they  sat  talking  of  the  gifts  of  God  which  Saint 
Francis  had  sent  them,  and  of  what  they  would  do 
with  the  money. 

But  in  this  desperate  game  men's  lives  are  risked 
for  a  few  pounds  of  fish ;  and  once  the  Malavoglia 
were  within  a  hair's-breadth  of  losing  theirs  all  at 
once,  as  Bastianazzo  had,  for  the  sake  of  gain,  when 
they  were  off  Agnone  as  the  day  drew  to  a  close, 
and  the  sky  was  so  dark  that  they  could  not  even 
see  Etna,  and  the  winds  blew  and  swept  up  the 
waves  so  close  about  the  boat  that  it  seemed  as  if 
they  had  voices  and  could  speak. 

"  Ugly  weather,"  said  Padron  'Ntoni.  "  The  wind 
turns  like  a  silly  wench's  head,  and  the  face  of  the 
sea  looks  like  Goosefoot's  when  he  is  hatching 
some  hateful  trick," 

The  sea  was  as  black  as  the  beach,  though  the 
sun  had  not  yet  gone  down,  and  every  now  and  then 
it  hissed  and  seethed  like  a  pot. 


1 62  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

"Now  the  gulls  have  all  gone  to  sleep,"  said 
Alessio. 

"  By  this  time  they  ought  to  have  lighted  the  bea- 
con at  Catania,"  said  'Ntoni;  "but  I  can't  see  it." 

"  Keep  the  rudder  always  north-east,"  ordered  the 
grandfather ;  "in  half  an  hour  it  will  be  darker  than 
an  oven." 

"On  such  evenings  as  this  it  is  better  to  be  at 
Santuzza's  tavern." 

"  Or  asleep  in  your  bed,  eh  ?"  said  the  old  man ; 
"  then,  you  should  be  a  clerk,  like  Don  Silvestro." 

The  poor  old  fellow  had  been  groaning  all  day 
with  pain.  "The  weather  is  going  to  change,"  he 
said ;  "  I  feel  it  in  my  bones." 

All  of  a  sudden  it  grew  so  black  that  one  couldn't 
even  see  to  swear.  Only  the  waves,  as  they  rolled 
past  the  Provvidenza,  shone  like  grinning  teeth 
ready  to  devour  her;  and  no  one  dared  spe.ak  a 
word  in  presence  of  the  sea,  that  moaned  over  all 
its  waste  of  waters. 

"I've  an  idea,"  said  'Ntoni,  suddenly,  "that  we 
had  better  give  the  fish  we've  caught  to-day  to  the 
devil." 

"  Silence !"  said  his  grandfather;  and  the  stern 
voice  out  of  that  darkness  made  him  shrink  togeth- 
er like  a  leaf  on  the  bench  where  he  sat. 

They  heard  the  wind  whistle  in  the  sails  of  the 
Provvidenza,  and  the  ropes  ring  like  the  strings  of  a 
guitar.  Suddenly  the  wind  began  to  scream  like 
the  steam-engine  when  the  train  comes  out  from  the 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  163 

tunnel  in  the  mountain  above  Trezza,  and  there 
came  a  great  wave  from  nobody  knew  where,  and 
the  Provvidenza  rattled  like  a  sack  of  nuts,  and 
sprang  up  into  the  air  and  then  rolled  over. 

"  Down  with  the  sail  —  down  !"  cried  Padron 
'Ntoni.  "  Cut  away,  cut  away  !" 

'NtonijWith  the  knife  in  his  mouth,  scrambled  like 
a  cat  out  on  the  yard,  and  standing  on  the  very  end 
to  balance  himself,  hung  over  the  howling  waves 
that  leaped  up  to  swallow  him. 

"  Hold  on,  hold  on !"  cried  the  old  man  to  him, 
through  all  the  thunder  of  the  waves  that  strove  to 
tear  him  down,  and  tossed  about  the  Provvidenza 
and  all  that  was  inside  her,  and  flung  the  boat  on 
her  side,  so  that  the  water  was  up  to  their  knees. 
"  Cut  away,  cut  away !"  called  out  the  grandfather 
again. 

"  Sacrament !"  exclaimed  'Ntoni;  "and  what  shall 
we  do  without  the  sail,  then  ?" 

"Stop  swearing;  we  are  in  the  hands  of  God 
now." 

Alessio,  who  was  grasping  the  rudder  with  all 
his  force,  heard  what  his  grandfather  said,  and  be- 
gan to  scream,  "  Mamma,  mamma,  mamma !" 

"  Hush !"  cried  his  brother,  as  well  as  he  could 
for  the  knife  in  his  teeth.  "  Hush,  or  I'll  give  you 
a  kick." 

"Make  the  holy  sign,  and  be  quiet,"  echoed  the 
grandfather,  so  that  the  boy  dared  not  make  an- 
other sound. 


164  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

Suddenly  the  sail  fell  all  at  once  in  a  heap,  and 
'Ntoni  drew  it  in,  furling  it  light,  quick  as  a  flash. 

"You  know  your  trade  well,  as  your  father  did 
before  you,"  said  his  grandfather.  "  You,  too,  are 
a  Malavoglia." 

The  boat  righted  and  gave  one  leap,  then  began 
to  leap  about  again  among  the  waves. 

"  This  way  the  rudder,  this  way ;  now  it  wants  a 
strong  arm,"  said  Padron  'Ntoni ;  and  though  the 
boy,  too,  clung  to  it  like  a  cat,  the  boat  still  sprang 
about,  and  there  came  great  waves  sweeping  over 
it  that  drove  them  against  the  helm,  with  force 
enough  nearly  to  knock  the  breath  out  of  them 
both. 

"The  oars!"  cried  'Ntoni;  "pull  hard,  Alessio; 
you're  strong  enough  when  it  comes  to  eating;  just 
now  the  oars  are  worth  more  than  the  helm." 

The  boat  creaked  and  groaned  with  the  strain  of 
the  oars  pulled  by  those  strong  young  arms;  the 
boy,  standing  with  his  feet  braced  against  the  deck, 
put  all  his  soul  into  his  oar  as  well  as  his  brother. 

"Hold  hard!"  cried  the  old  man,  who  could 
hardly  be  heard  at  the  other  side  of  the  boat,  over 
the  roaring  of  the  wind  and  the  waves.  "  Hold  on, 
Alessio !" 

"  Yes,  grandfather,  I  do,"  replied  the  boy, 

"  Are  you  afraid  ?"  asked  'Ntoni. 

"  No,  he's  not,"  answered  his  grandfather  for 
him;  "but  we  must  commend  ourselves  to  God." 

"  Holy  devil !"  exclaimed  'Ntoni.     "  Here    one 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  165 

ought  to  have  arms  of  iron,  like  the  steam-engine. 
The  sea  is  getting  the  best  of  it." 

The  grandfather  was  silent,  listening  to  the  blast. 

"  Mamma  must  by  this  time  have  come  to  the 
shore  to  watch  for  us." 

Don't  talk  about  mamma  now,"  said  the  old 
man;  "  it  is  better  not  to  think  about  her." 

"  Where  are  we  now  ?"  asked  'Ntoni  after  some 
time,  hardly  able  to  speak  for  fatigue. 

"  In  God's  hands,"  answered  the  grandfather. 

"  Then  let  me  cry  !"  exclaimed  Alessio,  who  could 
bear  it  no  longer;  and  he  began  to  scream  aloud 
and  to  call  for  his  mother  at  the  top  of  his  voice, 
in  the  midst  of  the  noise  of  the  wind  and  of  the 
sea,  and  neither  of  them  had  the  heart  to  scold 
him. 

"  It's  all  very  well  your  howling,  but  nobody  can 
hear  you,  and  you  had  best  be  still,"  said  his  broth- 
er at  last,  in  a  voice  so  changed  and  strange  that 
he  hardly  knew  it  himself.  "  Now  hush  !"  he  went 
on;  "  it  is  best  for  you  and  best  for  us." 

"  The  sail !"  ordered  Padron  'Ntoni.  "  Put  her 
head  to  the  wind,  and  then  leave  it  in  the  hands  of 
God." 

The  wind  hindered  them  terribly,  but  at  last 
they  got  the  sail  set,  and  the  Provvidenza  began  to 
dance  over  the  crests  of  the  waves,  leaning  to  one 
side  like  a  wounded  bird. 

The  Malavoglia  kept  close  together  on  one  side, 
clinging  to  the  rail.  At  that  moment  no  one  spoke, 


1 66  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

for,  when  the  sea  speaks  in  that  tone  no  one  else 
dares  to  utter  a  word. 

Only  Padron  'Ntoni  said,  "  Over  there  they  are 
saying  the  rosary  for  us." 

And  no  one  spoke  again,  and  they  flew  along 
through  the  wild  tempest  and  the  night,  that  had 
come  on  as  black  as  pitch. 

"  The  light  on  the  mole  !"  cried  'Ntoni ;  "  do  you 
see  it  ?" 

"  To  the  right !"  shouted  Padron  'Ntoni ;  "  to  the 
right !  It  is  not  the  light  on  the  mole.  We  are 
driving  on  shore  !  Furl,  furl !" 

"I  can't,"  cried  'Ntoni;  "  the  rope's  too  wet." 
His  voice  was  hardly  to  be  heard  through  the 
storm,  so  tired  he  was.  "  The  knife,  the  knife ! 
quick,  Alessio !" 

"  Cut  away,  cut  away !" 

At  that  moment  a  crash  was  heard ;  the  Provvi- 
denza  righted  suddenly,  like  a  still  spring  let  loose, 
and  they  were  within  one  of  being  flung  into  the 
sea;  the  spar  with  the  sail  fell  across  the  deck, 
snapped  like  a  straw.  They  heard  a  voice  which 
cried  out  as  if  some  one  were  hurt  to  death. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  Who  called  out  ?"  demanded  'Ntoni, 
aiding  himself  with  his  teeth  and  the  knife  to  clear 
away  the  rigging  of  the  sail,  which  had  fallen  with 
the  mast  across  the  deck,  and  covered  everything. 
Suddenly  a  blast  of  wind  took  up  the  sail  and  swept 
it  whistling  away  into  the  night.  Then  the  broth- 
ers were  able  to  disengage  the  wreck  of  the  mast, 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  167 

and  to  fling  it  into  the  sea.  The  boat  rose  up,  but 
Paclron  'Ntoni  did  not  rise,  nor  did  he  answer  when 
'Ntoni  called  to  him.  Now,  when  the  wind  and 
the  sea  are  screaming  their  worst  together,  there  is 
nothing  more  terrible  than  the  silence  which  comes 
instead  of  the  voice  which  should  answer  to  our 
call 

"  Grandfather  !  grandfather  !"  called  out  Alessio, 
too ;  and  in  the  silence  which  followed  the  brothers 
felt  the  hair  rise  up  on  their  heads  as  if  it  had  been 
alive.  The  night  was  so  black  that  they  could 
not  see  from  one  end  of  the  boat  to  the  other,  and 
Alessio  was  silent  from  sheer  terror.  The  grand- 
father was  stretched  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat 
with  his  head  broken.  'Ntoni  found  him  at  last  by 
groping  about  for  him,  and  thought  he  was  dead, 
for  he  did  not  move,  nor  even  breathe.  The  helm 
swung  from  side  to  side,  while  the  boat  leaped  up 
and  then  plunged  headlong  into  the  hollows  of  the 
waves. 

"Ah,  Saint  Francis  de  Paul !  Ah,  blessed  Saint 
Francis  !"  cried  the  boys,  now  that  they  knew  noth- 
ing else  to  do.  And  Saint  Francis  mercifully  heard 
while  he  passed  through  the  whirlwind  helping  his 
flock,  and  spread  his  mantle  under  the  Provvidenza 
just  as  she  was  ready  to  crash  like  a  rotten  nut  on 
the  "  Cliffs  of  the  Domes,"  under  the  lookout  of  the 
coast-guard.  The  boat  sprang  over  the  rocks  like 
a  colt,  and  ran  on  shore,  burying  her  nose  in  the 
sand.  "  Courage,  courage  !"  cried  the  guards  from 


1 68  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

the  shore;  "here  we  are,  here  we  are!"  and  they 
ran  here  and  there  with  lanterns,  ready  to  fling  out 
ropes. 

At  last  one  of  the  ropes  fell  across  the  Provvi- 
denza,  which  trembled  like  a  leaf,  and  struck  'Ntoni 
across  the  face  like  a  blow  from  a  whip,  but  not 
the  gentlest  of  caresses  could  have  seemed  sweeter 
to  him  at  that  moment. 

"Help,  help!"  he  cried,  catching  at  the  rope, 
which  ran  so  fast  that  he  could  hardly  hold  it  in 
his  hands.  Alessio  came  to  his  assistance  with 
all  his  force,  and  together  they  gave  it  two  turns 
around  the  rudder-post,  and  those  on  shore  drew 
them  in. 

Padron  'Ntoni,  however,  gave  no  sign  of  life,  and 
when  the  light  was  brought  they  found  his  face  cov- 
ered with  blood,  and  the  grandsons  thought  him 
dead,  and  tore  their  hair.  But  after  an  hour  or 
two  arrived  Don  Michele,  Rocco  Spatu,  Vanni  Piz- 
zuti,  and  all  the  idlers  that  had  been  at  the  tavern 
when  the  news  had  come,  and  by  force  of  rubbing 
and  of  cold  water  they  brought  him  to  himself,  and 
he  opened  his  eyes.  The  poor  old  man,  when  he 
heard  where  he  was,  and  that  there  wanted  less 
than  an  hour  to  reach  Trezza,  asked  them  to  carry 
him  home  on  a  ladder.  Maruzza,  Men  a,  and  the 
neighbors,  screaming  and  beating  their  breasts  in 
the  piazza,  saw  him  arrive  like  that,  stretched  out 
on  the  ladder,  pale  and  still,  as  if  he  had  been  dead. 

"  Tis  nothing,  'tis  nothing !"  called  out  Don  Mi- 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  169 

chele,  at  the  head  of  the  crowd.  "  'Tis  only  a  slight 
thing."  And  he  went  off  to  the  druggist's  for  the 
Thieves'  vinegar.  Don  Franco  came  himself  with 
it,  holding  the  bottle  with  both  hands;  and  Goose- 
foot,  too,  came  running,  and  his  wife  and  Dumb- 
bell and  the  Zuppiddi  and  Padron  Cipolla  and  all 
the  neighborhood,  for  at  such  a  time  all  differences 
are  forgotten;  there  came  even  poor  La  Locca,  who 
always  went  wherever  there  was  a  crowd  or  a  bustle, 
by  night  or  by  day,  as  if  she  never  slept,  but  was  al- 
ways seeking  her  lost  Menico.  So  that  the  people 
were  crowded  in  the  little  street  before  the  Mala- 
voglia's  house  as  if  a  corpse  had  been  there,  and 
their  cousin  Anna  had  to  shut  the  door  in  their  faces. 

"  Let  me  in,  let  me  in !"  cried  Nunziata,  pound- 
ing with  her  fist  on  the  door,  having  run  over  only 
half  dressed.  "  Let  me  in  to  see  what  has  hap- 
pened to  Cousin  Maruzza !" 

"  What  good  was  it  sending  us  for  the  ladder  if 
we  can't  come  in  and  see  what's  going  on  ?"  shouted 
the  son  of  La  Locca. 

The  Zuppidda  and  the  Mangiacarubbe  had  for- 
gotten all  the  hard  words  that  had  passed  between 
them,  and  stood  chatting  before  the  door,  with  hands 
under  their  aprons.  Yes,  it  was  always  so  with 
this  trade,  and  it  was  bound  to  finish  this  way  one 
day  or  another.  Whoever  marries  their  daughter 
to  a  seafaring  man  is  sure  to  see  her  come  back  to 
the  house  a  widow,  and  with  children  into  the  bar- 
gain; and  if  it  had  not  been  for  Don  Michele 


170  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

there  would  have  remained  not  one  of  the  Mala- 
voglia  to  carry  on  the  family.  The  best  thing  to  do 
was  to  do  nothing,  like  those  people  who  got  paid 
for  just  that — like  Don  Michele,  for  example ;  why, 
he  was  as  big  and  as  fat  as  a  canon,  and  he  ate  as 
much  as  ten  men,  and  everybody  smoothed  him 
down  the  right  way ;  even  the  druggist,  that  was 
always  railing  at  the  King,  took  off  his  great  ugly 
black  hat  to  him. 

"  It  will  be  nothing,"  said  Don  Franco,  coming 
out  of  the  house ;  "  we  have  bandaged  his  head 
properly ;  but  if  fever  doesn't  come  on,  I  won't  an- 
swer for  him." 

Goosefoot  insisted  on  going  in  "  because  he  was 
one  of  the  family,  almost,"  and  Padron  Fortunato, 
and  as  many  more  as  could  manage  to  pass. 

"  I  don't  like  the  looks  of  him  a  bit !"  pronounced 
Padron  Cipolla,  shaking  his  head.  "  How  do  you 
feel,  Cousin  'Ntoni  ?" 

For  two  or  three  days  Padron  'Ntoni  was  more 
dead  than  alive.  The  fever  came  on,  as  the  apoth- 
ecary had  said  it  would,  but  it  was  so  strong  that  it 
went  nigh  to  carry  the  wounded  man  off  altogether. 
The  poor  old  fellow  never  complained,  but  lay  quiet 
in  his  corner,  with  his  white  face  and  his  long 
beard,  and  his  head  bound  up.  He  was  only  dread- 
fully thirsty;  and  when  Mena  or  La  Longa  gave 
him  to  drink,  he  caught  hold  of  the  cup  with  both 
trembling  hands,  and  clung  to  it  as  if  he  feared  it 
would  be  taken  from  him. 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  171 

The  doctor  came  every  morning,  dressed  the 
wound,  felt  his  pulse,  looked  at  his  tongue,  and  went 
away  again  shaking  his  head. 

At  last  there  came  one  evening  when  the  doctor 
shook  his  head  more  sadly  than  ever ;  La  Longa 
placed  the  image  of  the  Madonna  beside  the  bed, 
and  they  said  their  rosary  around  it,  for  the  sick 
man  lay  still,  and  never  spoke,  even  to  ask  for 
water,  and  it  seemed  as  if  he  had  even  ceased  to 
breathe. 

Nobody  went  to  bed  that  night,  and  Lia  nearly 
broke  her  jaws  yawning,  so  sleepy  was  she.  The 
house  was  so  silent  that  they  could  hear  the  glasses 
by  the  bedside  rattle  when  the  carts  passed  by 
on  the  road,  making  the  watchers  by  the  sick  man 
start ;  so  passed  the  day,  too,  while  the  neighbors 
stood  outside  talking  in  low  tones,  and  watching 
what  went  on  through  the  half -door.  Towards 
evening  Padron  'Ntoni  asked  to  see  each  member 
of  his  family  one  by  one,  and  looking  at  them  with 
dim,  sunken  eyes,  asked  them  what  the  doctor  had 
said.  'Ntoni  was  at  the  head  of  the  bed,  crying 
like  a  child,  for  the  fellow  had  a  kind  heart. 

"  Don't  cry  so  !"  said  his  grandfather,  "  don't  cry. 
Now  you  are  the  head  of  the  house;  Think  how 
they  are  all  on  your  hands,  and  do  as  I  have  done 
for  them." 

The  women  began  to  cry  bitterly,  and  to  tear 
their  hair,  hearing  him  speak  in  that  way.  Even 
little  Lia  did  the  same,  for  women  have  no  reason 


172  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

at  such  times,  and  did  not  notice  how  the  poor 
man's  face  worked,  for  he  could  not  endure  to  see 
them  grieve  for  him  in  that  way.  But  the  weak 
voice  continued  : 

"  Don't  spend  money  for  me  when  I  am  gone. 
The  Lord  will  know  that  you  have  no  money,  and 
will  be  content  with  the  rosary  that  Mena  and 
Maruzza  will  say  for  me.  And  you,  Mena,  go  on 
doing  as  your  mother  has  done,  for  she  is  a  saint 
of  a  woman,  and  has  known  well  how  to  bear  her 
sorrows ;  and  keep  your  little  sister  under  your  wing 
as  a  hen  does  her  chickens.  As  long  as  you  cling 
together  your  sorrows  will  seem  less  bitter.  Now 
'Ntoni  is  a  man,  and  before  long  Alessio  will  be 
old  enough  to  help  you  too." 

"  Don't  talk  like  that,  don't !  for  pity's  sake,  don't 
talk  so !"  cried  the  women,  as  if  it  were  of  his  own 
free-will  that  he  was  leaving  them.  He  shook  his 
head  sadly,  and  replied : 

"Now  I  have  said  all  I  wished  to  say,  I  don't 
mind.  Please  turn  me  on  the  other  side.  I  am 
tired.  I  am  old,  you  know ;  when  the  oil  is  burned 
out  the  lamp  goes  out  too." 

Later  on  he  called  'Ntoni,  and  said  to  him : 

"  Don't  sell  the  Provvidenza,  though  she  is  so 
old ;  if  you  do  you  will  have  to  go  out  by  the  day, 
and  you  don't  know  how  hard  it  is  when  Padron 
Cipolla  or  Uncle  Cola  says  to  you,  *  There's  nobody 
wanted  on  Monday.'  And  another  thing  I  want  to 
say  to  you,  'Ntoni.  When  you  have  put  by  enough 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  173 

money  you  must  marry  off  Mena,  and  give  her  to 
a  seaman  like  her  father,  and  a  good  fellow  like 
him.  And  I  want  to  say,  also,  when  you  shall  have 
portioned  off  Lia,  too,  try  and  put  by  money  to  buy 
back  the  house  by  the  medlar-tree.  Uncle  Crucifix 
will  sell  it  if  you  make  it  worth  his  while,  for  it  has 
always  belonged  to  the  Malavoglia  —  and  thence 
your  father  and  Luca  went  away,  never  to  return." 

"  Yes,  grandfather  ,  yes,  I  will,"  promised  'Ntoni, 
with  many  tears.  And  Alessio  also  listened  grave- 
ly, as  if  he  too  had  been  a  man. 

The  women  thought  the  sick  man  must  be  wan- 
dering, hearing  him  go  on  talking  and  talking,  and 
they  went  to  put  wet  cloths  on  his  forehead. 

"No,"  said  Padron  'Ntoni ,  "  I  am  in  right  senses. 
I  only  want  to  finish  what  I  have  to  say  before  I  go 
away  from  you." 

By  this  time  they  had  begun  to  hear  the  fisher- 
men calling  from  one  door  to  another,  and  the  carts 
began  to  pass  along  the  road.  "  In  two  hours  it  will 
be  day,"  said  Padron  'Ntoni,  "  and  you  can  go  call 
Don  Giammaria." 

Poor  things  !  they  looked  for  day  as  for  the  Mes- 
siah, and  went  to  the  window  every  few  minutes  to 
look  for  the  dawn.  At  last  the  room  grew  lighter, 
and  Padron  'Ntoni  said,  "  Now  go  call  the  priest, 
for  I  want  to  confess." 

Don  Giammaria  came  when  the  sun  had  already 
risen ;  and  all  the  neighbors,  when  they  heard  the 
bell  tinkle  in  the  black  street,  went  after  it,  to  see 


174  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

the  viaticum  going  to  the  Malavoglia.  And  all  went 
in,  too  ;  for  when  the  Lord  is  within  the  door  can  be 
shut  upon  nobody;  so  that  the  mourning  family, 
seeing  the  house  full  of  people,  dared  not  weep  nor 
cry;  while  Don  Giammaria  muttered  the  prayers 
between  his  teeth,  and  Master  Cirino  put  a  candle 
to  the  lips  of  the  sick  man,  who  lay  pale  and  stiff 
as  a  candle  himself. 

"  He  looks  just  like  the  patriarch  Saint  Joseph, 
in  that  bed,  with  that  long  beard,"  said  Santuzza, 
who  arranged  all  the  bottles  and  straightened  every- 
thing, for  she  was  always  about  when  Our  Lord 
went  anywhere — "  Like  a  raven,"  said  the  druggist. 

The  doctor  came  while  the  vicar  was  still  there, 
and  at  first  he  wanted  to  turn  his  donkey  round 
and  go  home  again.  "Who  told  you  to  call  the 
priest?"  he  said;  "that  is  the  doctor's  affair,  and 
I  am  astonished  that  Don  Giammaria  should  have 
come  without  a  certificate.  Do  you  know  what? 
There  is  no  need  of  the  priest — he's  better— that's 
what  he  is." 

"  It  is  a  miracle,  worked  by  Our  Lady  of  Sor- 
rows," cried  La  Longa;  "Our  Lady  has  done  this 
for  us,  for  Our  Lord  has  come  too  often  to  this 
house." 

"  Ah,  Blessed  Virgin  !  Ah,  Holy  Virgin  !"  ex- 
claimed Mena,  clasping  her  hands  ;  "  how  gracious 
art  thou  to  us !"  And  they  all  wept  for  joy,  as  if 
the  sick  man  were  quite  ready  to  get  up  and  be  off 
to  his  boat  again. 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  175 

The  doctor  went  off  growling.  "  That's  always 
the  way.  If  they  get  well  it  is  Our  Lady  has  saved 
them  ;  if  they  die,  it  is  we  who  have  killed  them." 

"  Don  Michele  is  to  have  the  medal  for  throwing 
the  rope  to  the  Provvidenza,  and  there's  a  pension 
attached  to  it,"  said  the  druggist.  "  That's  the  way 
they  spend  the  people's  money !" 

Goosefoot  spoke  up  in  defence  of  Don  Michele, 
saying  that  he  had  deserved  the  medal,  and  the 
pension,  too,  for  he  had  gone  into  the  water  up  to 
his  knees,  big  boots  and  all,  to  save  the  Malavoglia 
— three  persons.  "  Do  you  think  that  a  small  thing 
— three  lives  ? — and  was  within  a  hair's-breath  of 
losing  his  own  life,  too,  so  that  everybody  was  talk- 
ing of  him :  and  on  a  Sunday,  when  he  put  on  his  new 
uniform,  the  girls  couldn't  take  their  eyes  off  him, 
so  anxious  were  they  to  see  if  he  really  had  the 
medal  or  not." 

"  Barbara  Zuppidda,  now  that  she's  got  rid  of 
that  lout  of  a  Malavoglia,  won't  turn  her  back  on 
Don  Michele  any  more,"  said  Goosefoot.  "  I've 
seen  her  with  her  nose  between  the  shutters  when 
he's  passed  along  the  street." 

'Ntoni,  poor  fellow,  as  long  as  they  couldn't  do 
without  him,  had  run  hither  and  thither  indefatiga- 
bly,  and  had  been  in  despair  while  his  grandfather 
was  so  ill.  Now  that  he  was  better,  he  took  to 
lounging  about,  with  his  arms  akimbo,  waiting  till  it 
was  time  to  take  the  Provvidenza  to  Master  Zup- 
piddu  to  be  mended,  and  went  to  the  tavern  to  chat 


176  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

with  the  others,  though  he  hadn't  a  sou  to  spend 
there,  and  told  to  this  one  and  that  one  how  near 
he  had  been  to  drowning,  and  so  passed  the  time 
away,  lounging  and  spitting  about,  doing  nothing. 
When  any  one  would  pay  for  wine  for  him  he 
would  get  angry  about  Don  Michele-  and  say  he 
had  taken  away  his  sweetheart;  that  he  went  every 
evening  to  talk  to  Barbara  at  the  window;  that 
Uncle  Santoro  had  seen  him ;  that  he  had  asked 
Nunziata  if  she  hadn't  seen  Don  Michele  pass  by 
the  black  street. 

"  But,  blood  of  Judas  !  my  name  isn't  'Ntoni  Mal- 
avoglia  if  I  don't  put  a  stop  to  that.  Blood  of 
Judas  !" 

It  amused  the  others  to  see  him  storm  and  fume, 
so  they  paid  for  him  to  drink  on  purpose.  San- 
tuzza,  when  she  was  washing  the  glasses,  turned 
her  back  upon  them  so  as  not  to  hear  the  oaths 
and  the  ugly  words  that  were  always  passing  among 
them,  but  hearing  Don  Michele's  name,  she  forgot 
her  manners,  and  listened  with  all  her  ears.  She 
also  became  curious,  and  listened  to  them  with  open 
mouth,  and  gave  Nunziata's  little  brother  and  Ales- 
sio  apples  or  green  almonds  to  get  out  of  them 
what  had  passed  in  the  black  street.  Don  Michele 
swore  there  was  no  truth  in  the  story,  and  often  in 
the  evening,  after  the  tavern  was  shut,  they  might 
be  still  heard  disputing,  and  her  voice  would  be 
audible,  screaming,  "  Liar  !  Assassin  !  Miscreant! 
Thief !"  and  other  pretty  names;  so  much  so  that 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  177 

Don  Michele  left  off  going  to  the  tavern  at  all,  and 
used  to  send  for  his  wine  instead,  and  drink  it  by 
himself  at  Vanni  Pizzuti's  shop. 


XI. 


ONE  day  'Ntoni  Malavoglia,  lounging  about  as 
usual,  had  seen  two  young  men  who  had  embarked 
some  years  before  at  Riposto  in  search  of  fortune, 
and  had  returned  from  Trieste,  or  from  Alexandria, 
in  short,  from  afar  off,  and  were  spending  and 
swaggering  at  the  tavern  —  grander  than  Cousin 
Naso  the  butcher,  or  than  Padron  Cipolla.  They 
sat  astride  of  the  benches  joking  with  the  girls  and 
pulling  innumerable  silk  handkerchiefs  out  of  their 
pockets,  turning  the  place  upsidedown. 

'Ntoni,  when  he  came  home  at  night,  found  no- 
body there  but  the  women,  who  were  changing  the 
brine  on  the  anchovies  and  chatting  with  the  neigh- 
bors, sitting  in  a  circle  on  the  stones,  and  passing 
away  the  time  by  telling  stones  and  guessing  rid- 
dles, which  amused  greatly  the  children,  who  stood 
around  rubbing  their  sleepy  eyes.  Padron  'Ntoni 
listened  too,  and  watched  the  strainer  with  the 
fresh  brine,  nodding  his  head  in  approval  when  the 
stories  pleased  him,  or  when  the  boys  were  clever 
at  guessing  the  riddles. 

"The  best  story  of  all,"  said  'Ntoni,  "is  that  of 

12 


178  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

those  two  fellows  who  arrived  here  to-day  with  silk 
kerchiefs  that  one  can  hardly  believe  one's  eyes  to 
look  at,  and  such  a  lot  of  money  that  they  hardly 
look  at  it  when  they  take  it  out  of  their  pockets. 
They've  seen  half  the  world,  they  say.  Trezza  and 
Aci  Castello  put  together  are  not  to  be  compared 
to  what  they've  seen.  I've  seen  the  world  too,  and 
how  people  in  those  parts  don't  sit  still  salting  an- 
chovies, but  go  round  amusing  themselves  all  day 
long,  and  the  women,  with  silk  dresses  and  more 
rings  and  necklaces  than  the  Madonna  of  Ognino, 
go  about  the  streets  vying  with  each  other  for  the 
love  of  the  handsome  sailors." 

"  The  worst  of  all  things,"  said  Mena,  "  is  to  leave 
one's  own  home,  where  even  the  stones  are  one's 
friends,  and  when  one's  heart  must  break  to  leave 
them  behind  one  on  the  road.  <  Blest  is  the  bird 
that  builds  his  nest  at  home  !'  " 

"Brava,  Sant'Agata!"  said  her  grandfather ;  "that 
is  what  I  call  talking  sense." 

"  Yes,"  growled  'Ntoni,  "  and  when  we  have  sweat- 
ed and  steamed  to  build  our  nest  we  haven't  any- 
thing left  to  eat ;  and  when  we  have  managed  to 
get  back  the  house  by  the  medlar  we  shall  just 
have  to  go  on  wearing  out  our  lives  from  Monday 
to  Saturday,  and  never  do  anything  else." 

"  And  don't  you  mean  to  work  any  more  ?  What 
do  you  mean  to  do — turn  lawyer  ?" 

"  I  don't  mean  to  turn  lawyer,"  said  'Ntoni,  and 
went  off  to  bed  in  high  dudgeon. 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  179 

But  from  that  time  forth  he  thought  of  nothing 
but  the  easy,  wandering  life  other  fellows  led;  and 
in  the  evening,  not  to  hear  all  that  idle  chatter,  he 
stood  by  the  door  with  his  shoulders  against  the 
wall,  watching  the  people  pass,  and  meditating  on 
his  hard  fate ;  at  least  one  was  resting  against  the 
fatigues  of  to-morrow,  when  must  begin  again  over 
and  over  the  same  thing,  like  Cousin  Mosca's  ass, 
that  when  they  brought  the  collar  reached  out  his 
neck  to  have  it  put  on.  "  We're  all  asses  !"  he  mut- 
tered ;  "  that's  what  we  are — asses !  beasts  of  bur- 
den." And  it  was  plainly  enough  to  be  seen  that  he 
was  tired  of  that  hard  life,  and  longed  to  leave  it, 
and  go  out  into  the  world  to  make  his  fortune,  like 
those  others ;  so  that  his  mother,  poor  woman,  was 
always  stroking  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  speaking 
to  him  in  tones  that  were  each  like  a  caress,  look- 
ing at  him  with  eyes  full  of  tears,  as  if  she  would 
read  his  very  soul.  But  he  told  her  there  was  no 
cause  to  grieve,  that  it  was  better  he  should  go,  for 
himself  and  for  the  rest  of  them,  and  when  he  came 
back  they  would  all  be  happy  together. 

The  poor  mother  never  closed  her  eyes  that 
night,  and  steeped  her  pillow  with  tears.  At  last 
the  grandfather  himself  perceived  it,  and  called  his 
grandson  outside  the  door,  under  the  shrine,  to  ask 
him  what  ailed  him. 

"What  is  it,  my  boy?"  he  said.  "Tell  your 
grandpapa ;  do,  that's  a  good  boy." 

'Ntoni  shrugged  his  shoulders ;  but  the  old  man 


l8o  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

went  on  nodding  his  head,  and  seeking  for  words 
to  make  himself  understood  properly. 

"  Yes,  yes  !  youVe  got  some  notion  in  your  head, 
boy!  some  new  notion  or  other.  'Who  goes  with 
lame  men  limps  himself  before  long.' " 

"  I'm  a  poor  miserable  devil,  that's  what  it  is." 

"  Well,  is  that  all  ?  You  knew  that  before.  And 
what  am  I,  and  what  was  your  father  ?  '  He  is  the 
richest  who  has  the  fewest  wants.  Better  content 
than  complaint.' " 

"  Fine  consolation,  that  is  !" 

This  time  the  old  man  found  words,  for  they  were 
in  his  heart,  and  so  came  straight  to  his  lips. 

"  At  least,  don't  say  it  to  your  mother." 

"My  mother!  She  would  have  done  better  not 
to  have  brought  me  into  the  world,  my  mother !" 

"Yes,"  assented  Padron  'Ntoni,  "it  would  have 
been  better  she  had  not  borne  you,  if  you  are  to 
begin  to  talk  in  this  way." 

For  a  minute  'Ntoni  didn't  know  what  to  say, 
then  he  began :  "  Well,  I  mean  it  for  your  good, 
too — for  you,  for  my  mother,  for  us  all.  I  want  to 
make  her  rich,  my  mother  !  that's  what  I  want.  Now 
we're  tormenting  ourselves  for  the  house,  and  for 
Mena's  dowry;  then  Lia  will  grow  up,  and  she'll 
want  a  dowry  too,  and  then  a  bad  year  will  throw 
us  all  back  into  misery.  I  don't  want  to  lead  this 
life  any  longer.  I  want  to  change  my  condition  and 
to  change  yours.  I  want  that  we  should  be  rich — 
mamma,  Mena,  you,  Alessio,  all  of  us." 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  l8l 

Padron  'Ntoni  opened  his  eyes  very  wide  and 
listened,  pondering,  to  this  discourse,  which  he 
found  very  hard  to  understand.  "  Rich  !"  he  said, 
"rich  !  And  what  shall  we  do  when  we  are  rich?" 

'Ntoni  scratched  his  head,  and  began  to  wonder 
himself  what  he  should  do  in  such  a  case.  "We 
should  do  what  other  people  do,"  he  said — "  go  and 
live  in  town,  and  do  nothing,  and  eat  meat." 

"  In  town  !  go  and  live  in  town  by  yourself.  I 
choose  to  die  where  I  was  born ;"  and  thinking  of 
the  house  where  he  was  born,  which  was  no  longer 
his,  he  let  his  head  drop  on  his  breast.  "  You  are 
but  a  boy ;  you  don't  know  what  it  is,"  he  said  ;  "  you 
don't  know,  you  don't  know !  When  you  can  no 
longer  sleep  in  your  own  bed,  or  see  the  light  come 
in  through  your  own  window,  you'll  see  what  it  is. 
I  am  old,  and  I  know  !"  The  poor  old  man  cough- 
ed as  if  he  would  suffocate,  with  bent  shoulders, 
shaking  his  head  sadly.  "  '  His  own  nest  every  bird 
likes  best.'  Look  at  those  swallows ;  do  you  see 
them  ?  They  have  always  made  their  nest  there, 
and  they  still  return  to  make  it  there,  and  never  go 
away." 

"  But  I  am  not  a  swallow,"  said  'Ntoni.  "  I  am 
neither  a  bird  nor  a  beast.  I  don't  want  to  live 
like  a  dog  on  a  chain,  or  like  Cousin  Alfio's  ass,  or 
like  a  mule  in  a  mill,  that  goes  round  and  round, 
turning  the  same  wheel  forever.  I  don't  want  to 
die  of  hunger  in  a  corner,  or  to  be  eaten  up  by 
sharks." 


l82  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

"  Thank  God,  rather,  that  you  were  born  here,  and 
pray  that  you  may  not  come  to  die  far  from  the 
stones  that  you  know.  'Who  changes  the  old  for 
the  new  changes  for  the  worse  all  through.'  You 
are  afraid  of  work,  are  afraid  of  poverty ;  I,  who 
have  neither  your  youth  nor  your  strength,  fear 
them  not.  '  The  good  pilot  is  known  in  the  storm.' 
You  are  afraid  of  having  to  work  for  your  bread, 
that  is  what  ails  you !  When  my  father,  rest  his 
soul,  left  me  the  Prowidenza  and  five  mouths  to 
feed,  I  was  younger  than  you  are  now,  and  I  was 
not  afraid;  and  I  have  done  my  duty  without 
grumbling ;  and  I  do  it  still,  and  I  pray  God  to  help 
me  to  do  it  as  long  as  I  live,  as  your  father  did, 
and  your  brother  Luca,  blessed  be  their  souls  !  who 
feared  not  to  go  and  die  where  duty  led  them. 
Your  mother,  too,  has  done  hers,  poor  little  wom- 
an, hidden  inside  four  walls ;  and  you  know  not 
the  tears  she  has  shed,  nor  how  many  she  sheds 
now,  because  you  want  to  go  and  leave  her ;  nor 
how  in  the  morning  your  sister  finds  her  sheets 
wet  with  tears.  And  nevertheless  she  is  silent,  and 
does  not  talk  of  you  nor  of  the  hard  things  you  say 
to  her ;  and  she  works,  and  puts  together  her  pro- 
vision, poor  busy  little  ant  that  she  is ;  and  she  has 
never  done  anything  else  all  her  life  long  —  be- 
fore she  had  so  many  tears  to  shed,  and  when  she 
suckled  you  at  her  breast,  and  before  you  could  go 
alone,  or  the  temptation  had  come  over  you  to  go 
wandering  like  a  gypsy  about  the  world." 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  183 

The  end  of  it  was  that  'Ntoni  began  to  cry  like 
a  child,  for  at  bottom  the  boy  had  a  good  heart ; 
but  the  next  day  it  began  all  over  again.  In  the 
morning  he  took  the  tackle  unwillingly  on  his  shoul- 
der, and  went  off  to  sea  growling,  "  Just  like  Cousin 
Alfio's  ass  :  at  daybreak  I  have  to  stretch  out  my 
neck  to  see  if  they  are  coming  to  load  me."  After 
they  had  thrown  the  net  he  left  Alessio  to  move 
the  oars  slowly,  so  as  to  keep  the  boat  in  its  place ; 
and  folding  his  arms,  looked  out  into  the  distance 
to  where  the  sea  ended,  towards  those  great  cities 
where  people  did  nothing  but  walk  about  and 
amuse  themselves ;  or  thought  of  the  two  sailors 
who  had  come  back  thence,  and  had  now  for  some 
time  been  gone  away  from  the  place ;  but  it  seemed 
to  him  that  they  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  wander 
about  the  world  from  one  town  to  another,  spend- 
ing the  money  they  had  in  their  pockets.  In  the 
evening,  when  all  the  tackle  was  put  away,  they 
let  him  wander  about  as  he  liked,  like  a  houseless 
dog,  without  a  soldo  to  bless  himself  with,  sooner 
than  see  him  sit  there  as  sulky  as  a  bear. 

"What  ails  you,  'Ntoni  ?"  said  La  Longa,  looking 
timidly  into  his  face,  with  her  eyes  shining  with 
tears,  for  she  knew  well  enough,  poor  woman,  what 
it  was  that  ailed  him.  "  Tell  me,  tell  your  moth- 
er." He  did  not  answer,  or  answered  that  nothing 
ailed  him.  But  at  last  he  did  tell  her  that  his 
grandfather  and  the  rest  of  them  wanted  to  work 
him  to  death,  and  he  could  bear  it  no  longer.  He 


184  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

wanted  to  go  away  and  seek  his  fortune  like  other 
people. 

His  mother  listened,  with  her  eyes  full  of  tears, 
and  could  not  speak  in  reply  to  him,  as  he  went  on 
weeping  and  stamping  and  tearing  his  hair. 

The  poor  creature  longed  to  answer  him,  and  to 
throw  her  arms  round  his  neck,  and  beg  him  not  to 
go  away  from  her,  but  her  lips  trembled  so  that  she 
could  not  utter  a  word. 

."Listen,"  she  said  at  last;  "you  may  go,  if  you 
will  do  it,  but  you  won't  find  me  here  when  you 
come  back,  for  I  am  old  now  and  weak,  and  I  can- 
not bear  this  new  sorrow." 

'Ntoni  tried  to  comfort  her,  saying  he  would  soon 
come  back  with  plenty  of  money,  and  that  they 
would  all  be  happy  together.  Maruzza  shook  her 
head  sadly,  saying  that  no,  no,  he  would  not  find 
her  when  he  came  back. 

"  I  feel  that  I  am  growing  old,"  she  said.  "  I 
am  growing  old.  Look  at  me.  I  have  no  strength 
now  to  weep  as  I  did  when  your  father  died,  and 
your  brother.  If  I  go  to  the  washing  I  come  back 
so  tired  that  I  can  hardly  move;  it  was  never  so  be- 
fore. No,  my  son,  I  am  not  what  I  was.  Once, 
when  I  had  your  father  and  your  brother,  I  was 
young  and  strong.  The  heart  gets  tired  too,  you 
see;  it  wears  away  little  by  little,  like  old  linen  that 
has  been  too  often  washed.  I  have  no  courage 
now;  everything  frightens  me.  I  feel  as  one  does 
when  the  waves  come  over  his  head  when  he  is  out 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  185 

at  sea.  Go  away  if  you  will,  but  wait  until  I  am 
at  rest." 

She  was  weeping,  but  she  did  not  know  it;  she 
seemed  to  have  before  her  eyes  once  more  her  hus- 
band and  her  son  Luca  as  she  had  seen  them  when 
they  left  her  to  return  no  more. 

"  So  you  will  go,  and  I  shall  see  you  no  more," 
she  said  to  him.  "The  house  grows  more  empty 
every  day ;  and  when  that  poor  old  man,  your  grand- 
father, is  gone,  too,  in  whose  hands  shall  I  leave 
those  orphan  children  ?  Ah,  Mother  of  Sorrows  !" 

She  clung  to  him,  with  her  head  against  his 
breast,  as  if  her  boy  were  going  to  leave  her  then 
and  there,  and  stroked  his  shoulder  and  his  cheeks 
with  her  trembling  hands.  Then  'Ntoni  could  re- 
sist her  no  longer,  and  began  to  kiss  her  and  to 
whisper  gently  in  her  ear: 

"  No,  no !  I  won't  go  if  you  say  I  must  not. 
Look  at  me !  Don't  talk  so,  don't.  Well,  I'll  go 
on  working  like  Cousin  Mosca's  ass,  that  will  be 
thrown  into  a  ditch  to  die  when  he's  too  old  to 
work  any  more.  Are  you  contented  now?  Don't 
cry,  don't  cry  any  more.  Look  at  my  grandfather 
how  he  has  struggled  all  his  life,  and  is  struggling 
still  to  get  out  of  the  mud,  and  he  will  go  on  so. 
It  is  our  fate." 

uAnd  do  you  think  that  everybody  hasn't  troubles 
of  their  own  ?  '  Every  hole  has  its  nail;  new  or  old, 
they  never  fail.'  Look  at  Padron  Cipolla  how  he 
has  to  run  here  and  to  watch  there,  not  to  have  his 


l86  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

son  Brasi  throwing  all  the  money  he  has  saved  and 
scraped  into  Vespa's  lap !  And  Master  Filippo, 
rich  as  he  is,  trembling  for  his  vineyard  every  time 
it  rains.  And  Uncle  Crucifix,  starving  himself  to 
put  soldo  upon  soldo,  and  always  at  law  with  this 
one  or  with  that.  And  do  you  think  those  two 
foreign  sailors  that  you  saw  here,  and  that  put  all 
this  in  your  head  with  their  talk  of  strange  coun- 
tries, do  you  think  they  haven't  their  own  troubles 
too  ?  Who  knows  if  they  found  their  mothers  alive 
when  they  got  home  to  their  own  houses  ?  And  as 
for  us,  when  we  have  bought  back  the  house  by  the 
medlar,  and  have  our  grain  in  the  hutch  and  our 
beans  for  the  winter,  and  when  Mena  is  married, 
what  more  shall  we  want  ?  When  I  am  under  the 
sod,  and  that  poor  old  man  is  dead  too,  and  Alessio 
is  old  enough  to  earn  his  bread,  go  wherever  you 
like.  But  then  you  won't  want  to  go,  I  can  tell 
you ;  for  then  you  will  begin  to  know  what  we  feel 
when  we  see  you  so  obstinate  and  so  determined  to 
leave  us  all,  even  when  we  do  not  speak,  but  go  on 
in  our  usual  way.  Then  you  will  not  find  it  in  your 
heart  to  leave  the  place  where  you  were  born,  where 
the  very  stones  know  you  well,  where  your  own  dead 
will  lie  together  under  the  marble  in  the  church, 
which  is  worn  smooth  by  the  knees  of  those  who 
have  prayed  so  long  before  Our  Mother  of  Sor- 
rows." 

'Ntoni,  from  that  day  forth,  said  no  more  of  going 
away,  or  of  growing  rich ;  and  his  mother  watched 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  187 

him  tenderly,  as  a  bird  watches  her  young,  when 
she  saw  him  looking  sad  or  sitting  silently  on  the 
door-step,  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees.  And  the 
poor  woman  was  truly  a  sad  sight  to  see,  so  pale 
was  she,  so  thin  and  worn ;  and  when  her  work  was 
over  she  too  sat  down,  with  folded  hands,  and  her 
back  bent  as  badly  as  her  father-in-law's.  But  she 
knew  not  that  she  herself  was  going  for  a  journey 
— that  journey  which  leads  to  the  long  rest  below 
the  smooth  marble  in  the  church  —  and  that  she 
must  leave  behind  her  all  those  she  loved  so  well, 
who  had  so  grown  into  her  heart  that  they  had 
worn  it  all  away,  piece  by  piece,  now  one  and  now 
another. 

At  Catania  there  was  the  cholera,  and  everybody 
that  could  manage  it  ran  away  into  the  country 
here  and  there  among  the  villages  and  towns  in  the 
neighborhood.  And  at  Ognino,  and  at  Trezza,  too, 
these  strangers,  who  spent  so  much  money,  were  a 
real  providence.  But  the  merchants  pulled  a  long 
face,  and  said  that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  sell 
even  a  dozen  barrels  of  anchovies,  and  that  all  the 
money  had  disappeared  on  account  of  the  cholera. 
"And  don't  people  eat  anchovies  any  more  ?"  asked 
Goosefoot.  But  to  Padron  'Ntoni,  who  had  them  to 
sell,  they  said  that  now  there  was  the  cholera,  peo- 
ple were  afraid  to  eat  anchovies,  and  all  that  kind 
of  stuff,  but  must'eat  macaroni  and  meat;  and  so 
it  was  best  to  let  things  go  at  the  best  price  one 
could  get.  That  hadn't  been  counted  in  the  Mala- 


1 88  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

voglia's  reckoning.  Hence,  not  to  go  backward,  crab 
fashion,  needs  must  that  La  Longa  should  go  about 
from  house  to  house  among  the  foreigners,  selling 
eggs  and  fresh  bread,  and  so  on,  while  the  men  were 
out  at  sea,  and  so  put  together  a  little  money.  But 
it  was  needful  to  be  very  careful,  and  not  take  even 
so  much  as  a  pinch  of  snuff  from  a  person  one  did 
not  know.  Walking  on  the  road,  one  must  go  ex- 
actly in  the  middle — as  far  away  as  possible  from 
the  walls,  where  one  ran  the  risk  of  coming  across 
all  sorts  of  horrors ;  and  one  must  never  sit  down 
on  the  stones  or  on  the  wall.  La  Longa,  once, 
coming  back  from  Aci  Castello,  with  her  basket  on 
her  arm,  felt  so  tired  that  her  legs  were  like  lead 
under  her,  and  she  could  hardly  move,  so  she  yield- 
ed to  temptation,  and  rested  a  few  minutes  on  the 
smooth  stones  under  the  shade  of  the  fig -tree, 
just  by  the  shrine  at  the  entrance  of  the  town ;  and 
she  remembered  afterwards,  though  she  did  not 
notice  it  at  the  time,  that  a  person  unknown  to  her 
— a  poor  man,  who  seemed  also  very  weary  and  ill 
— had  been  sitting  there  a  moment  before  she  came 
up.  In  short,  she  fell  ill,  took  the  cholera,  and 
returned  home  pale  and  tottering,  as  yellow  as  a 
gilded  heart  among  the  votive  offerings,  and  with 
deep  black  lines  under  her  eyes ;  so  that  when  Me- 
na,  who  was  alone  at  home,  saw  her,  she  began  to 
cry,  and  Lia  ran  off  to  gather  rosemary  and  marsh- 
mallow  leaves.  Mena  trembled  like  a  leaf  while 
she  was  making  up  the  bed,  and  the  sick  woman, 


THE'  HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  .  189 

sitting  on  a  chair,  with  pallid  face  and  sunken  eyes, 
kept  on  saying,  "  It  is  nothing,  don't  be  frightened; 
as  soon  as  I  have  got  into  bed  it  will  pass  off," 
and  tried  to  help  them  herself ;  but  every  minute 
she  grew  faint,  and  had  to  sit  down  again.  "  Holy 
Virgin  !"  stammered  Mena.  "  Holy  Virgin,  and  the 
men  out  at  sea !  Holy  Virgin,  help  us !"  and  Lia 
cried  with  all  her  might. 

When  Padron  'Ntoni  came  back  with  his  grand- 
sons, and  they  saw  the  door  half  shut,  and  the  light 
inside  the  shutters,  they  tore  their  hair.  Maruzza 
was  already  in  bed,  and  her  eyes,  seen  in  that  way 
in  the  dusk,  looked  hollow  and  dim,  as  if  death  had 
already  dimmed  their  light ;  and  her  lips  were  black 
as  charcoal.  At  that  time  neither  doctor  nor  apoth- 
ecary went  out  after  sunset,  and  even  the  neighbors 
barred  their  doors,  and  stuck  pictures  of  saints  over 
all  the  cracks,  for  fear  of  the  cholera.  So  Cousin 
Maruzza  had  no  help  except  from  her  own  poor 
people,  who  rushed  about  the  house  as  if  they  had 
been  crazy,  watching  her  fading  away  before  their 
eyes,  in  her  bed,  and  beat  their  heads  against  the 
wall  in  their  despair.  Then  La  Longa,  seeing  that 
all  hope  was  gone,  begged  them  to  lay  upon  her 
breast  the  lock  of  cotton  dipped  in  holy  oil  which 
she  had  bought  at  Easter,  and  said  that  they  must 
keep  the  light  burning,  as  they  had  done  when  Pa- 
dron 'Ntoni  had  been  so  ill  that  they  thought  him 
dying,  and  wanted  them  all  to  stay  beside  her  bed, 
that  she  might  look  at  them  until  the  last  moment 


IQO  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

with  those  wide  eyes  that  no  longer  seemed  to  see. 
Lia  cried  in  a  heart-breaking  way,  and  the  others, 
white  as  the  wall,  looked  in  each  other's  faces,  as  if 
asking  for  help,  where  no  help  was;  and  held  their 
hands  tight  over  their  breasts,  that  they  might  not 
break  out  into  loud  wailing  before  the  dying  woman, 
who,  none  the  less,  knew  all  that  they  felt,  though 
by  this  time  she  saw  them  no  longer,  and  even  at 
the  last  felt  the  pain  of  leaving  them  behind.  She 
called  them  one  by  one  by  name,  in  a  weak  and 
broken  voice,  and  tried  to  lift  her  hand  to  bless 
them,  knowing  that  she  was  leaving  them  a  treas- 
ure beyond  price. 

"  'Ntoni,"  she  repeated,  "  'Ntoni,  to  you,  who  are 
the  eldest,  I  leave  these  orphans !"  And  hearing 
her  speak  thus  while  she  was  still  alive,  they  could 
not  help  bursting  out  into  cries  and  sobs. 

So  they  passed  the  night  beside  the  bed,  where 
Maruzza  now  lay  without  moving,  until  the  candle 
burned  down  in  the  socket  and  went  out.  And 
the  dawn  came  in  through  the  window,  pale  like 
the  corpse,  which  lay  with  features  sharpened  like 
a  knife,  and  black,  parched  lips.  But  Men  a  never 
wearied  of  kissing  those  cold  lips,  and  speaking  as 
if  the  dead  could  hear.  'Ntoni  beat  his  breast  and 
cried,  "  O  mother !  O  mother  !  and  you  have  gone  be- 
fore me,  and  I  wanted  to  leave  you !"  And  Ales- 
sio  never  will  forget  that  last  look  of  his  mother, 
with  her  white  hair  and  pinched  features ;  no,  not 
even  when  his  hair  has  grown  as  white  as  hers. 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREK.  191 

At  dusk  they  came  to  take  La  Longa  in  a  hurry, 
and  no  one  thought  of  making  any  visits  ;  for  every 
one  feared  for  their  life.  And  even  Don  Giamma- 
ria  came  no  farther  than  the  threshold,  whence  he 
dispensed  the  holy  water,  holding  his  tunic  about 
bis  knees  tight,  lest  it  should  touch  anything  in  the 
house — "  Like  a  selfish  monk  as  he  was,"  said  the 
apothecary.  He,  on  the  contrary,  had  they  brought 
him  a  prescription  from  the  doctor,  would  have 
given  it  them,  would  even  have  opened  the  shop  at 
night  for  the  purpose,  for  he  was  not  afraid  of  the 
cholera ;  and  said,  besides,  that  it  was  all  stuff  and 
nonsense  to  say  that  the  cholera  could  be  thrown 
about  the  streets  or  behind  the  doors. 

"A  sign  that  he  spreads  the  cholera  himself," 
whispered  the  priest.  For  that  reason  the  people 
of  the  place  wanted  to  kill  the  apothecary ;  but  he 
laughed  at  them,  with  the  cackling  laugh  he  had 
learned  of  Don  Silvestro,  saying,  "Kill  me  !  I'm  a 
republican !  If  it  were  one  of  those  fellows  in  the 
Government,  now,  I  might  find  some  use  in  doing  it, 
but  what  good  would  it  do  me  to  spread  the  chol- 
era ?"  But  the  Malavoglia  were  left  alone  with  the 
bed  whence  the  mother  had  been  carried  away. 

For  some  time  they  did  not  open  the  door  after 
La  Longa  had  been  taken  away.  It  was  a  blessing 
that  they  had  plenty  to  eat  in  the  house — beans  and 
oil — and  charcoal  too,  for  Padron  'Ntoni,  like  the 
ants,  had  made  his  provision  in  time  of  plenty ;  else 
they  might  have  died  of  hunger,  for  no  one  came 


192  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

to  see  whether  they  were  alive  or  dead.  Then,  little 
by  little,  they  began  to  put  their  black  neckerchiefs 
on  and  to  go  out  into  the  street,  like  snails  after  a 
storm,  still  pale  and  dazed-looking.  The  gossips, 
remaining  aloof,  called  out  to  them  to  ask  how  it 
had  happened  ;  for  Cousin  Maruzza  had  been  one  of 
the  first  to  go.  And  when  Don  Michele,  or  some 
other  personage  who  took  the  King's  pay,  and  wore 
a  gold-bordered  cap,  came  their  way,  they  looked 
at  him  with  scared  eyes,  and  ran  into  the  house. 
There  was  great  misery,  and  no  one  was  seen  in 
the  street,  not  even  a  hen;  and  Don  Cirino  was 
never  seen  anywhere,  and  had  left  off  ringing  at 
noon  and  at  the  Ave  Maria,  for  he  too  ate  the  bread 
of  the  commune,  and  had  five  francs  a  month  as 
parish  beadle,  and  feared  for  his  life,"  for  was  not 
he  a  Government  official  ?  And  now  Don  Michele 
was  lord  of  the  whole  place,  for  Pizzuti  and  Don 
Silvestro  and  the  rest  hid  in  their  burrows  like 
rabbits,  and  only  he  walked  up  and  down  before 
the  Zuppidda's  closed  door.  It  was  a  pity  that  no- 
body saw  him  except  the  Malavoglia,  who  had  no 
longer  anything  to  lose,  and  so  sat  watching  who- 
ever passed  by,  sitting  on  the  door-step,  with  their 
elbows  on  their  knees.  Don  Michele,  not  to  take 
his  walk  for  nothing,  looked  at  Sant'Agata,  now 
that  all  the  other  doors  were  shut;  and  did  it  all 
the  more  to  show  that  great  hulking  'Ntoni  that  he 
wasn't  afraid  of  anybody,  not  he.  And  besides, 
Mena,  pale  as  she  was,  looked  a  real  Sant'Agata; 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  193 

and  the  little  sister,  with  her  black  neckerchief,  was 
growing  up  a  very  pretty  girl. 

It  seemed  to  poor  Mena  that  twenty  years  had 
fallen  .suddenly  on  her  shoulders.  She  watched 
Lia  now,  as  La  Longa  had  watched  her,  and  kept 
her  always  close  at  her  side,  and  had  all  the  cares 
of  the  house  on  her  mind.  She  had  grown  into  a 
habit  of  remaining  alone  in  the  house  with  her  sis- 
ter while  the  men  were  at  sea,  looking  from  time 
to  time  at  that  empty  bed.  When  she  had  nothing 
to  do  she  sat,  with  her  hands  in  her  lap,  looking  at 
the  empty  bed,  and  then  she  felt,  indeed,  that  her 
mother  had  left  her;  and  when  she  heard  them  say 
in  the  street  such  an  one  is  dead,  or  such  another, 
she  thought  so  they  heard  "La  Longa  is  dead" — • 
La  Longa,  who  had  left  her  alone  with  that  poor 
little  orphan,  with  her  black  neckerchief. 

Nunziata  or  their  Cousin  Anna  came  now  and 
then,  stepping  softly,  and  with  sad  looks,  and  saying 
nothing,  would  sit  down  with  her  on  the  door-step, 
with  hands  under  their  aprons.  The  men  coming 
back  from  the  fishing  stepped  quickly  along,  look- 
ing carefully  from  side  to  side,  with  the  nets  on 
their  shoulders.  And  no  one  stopped  anywhere, 
not  even  the  carts  at  the  tavern. 

Who  could  tell  where  Cousin  Alfio's  cart  was 
now  ?  or  if  at  this  moment  he  might  not  lie  dying 
of  cholera  behind  a  hedge,  that  poor  fellow,  who 
had  no  one  belonging  to  him.  Sometimes  Goose- 
foot  passed,  looking  half  starved,  glanced  about 


194  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

him,  as  if  he  were  afraid  of  his  shadow;  or  Un- 
cle Crucifix,  whose  riches  were  scattered  here  and 
there,  and  who  went  to  see  if  his  debtors  were  like- 
ly to  die  and  to  cheat  him  out  of  his  money.  The 
sacrament  went  by,  too,  quickly,  in  the  hands  of 
Don  Giammaria,  with  his  tunic  fastened  up,  and  a 
barefooted  boy  ringing  the  bell  before  him,  for  Don 
Cirino  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  That  bell,  in  the 
deserted  streets,  where  no  one  passed,  not  a  dog, 
and  even  Don  Franco  kept  his  door  half  shut,  was 
heart-rending.  The  only  person  to  be  seen,  day  or 
night,  was  La  Locca,  with  her  tangled  white  hair, 
who  went  to  sit  before  the  house  by  the  medlar- 
tree,  or  watched  for  the  boats  on  the  shore.  Even 
the  cholera  would  have  none  of  her,  poor  old  thing. 
The  strangers  had  flown  as  birds  do  at  the  ap- 
proach of  winter,  and  no  one  came  to  buy  the  fish. 
So  that  every  one  said,  "After  the  cholera  comes 
the  famine."  Padron  'Ntoni  had  once  more  to  dip 
into  the  money  put  away  for  the  house,  and  day  by 
day  it  melted  before  his  eyes.  But  he  thought 
of  nothing,  save  that  Maruzza  had  died  away  from 
her  own  house;  he  could  not  get  that  out  of  his 
head.  'Ntoni,  too,  shook  his  head  every  time  it 
was  necessary  to  use  up  the  money.  Finally, 
when  the  cholera  was  at  an  end,  and  there  only 
remained  about  half  of  the  money  put  together 
with  such  pains  and  trouble,  he  began  to  complain 
that  such  a  life  as  that  he  could  not  bear — eternally 
saving  and  sparing,  and  then  having  to  spend  for 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  195 

bare  life ;  that  it  was  better  to  risk  something,  once 
for  all,  to  get  out  of  this  eternal  worry,  and  that  there, 
at  least,  where  his  mother  had  died  in  the  midst 
of  that  hideous  misery,  he  would  stay  no  longer. 

"  Don't  you  remember  that  your  mother  recom- 
mended Mena  to  you  ?"  said  Padron  'Ntoni. 

"  What  good  can  I  do  to  Mena  by  staying  here  ? 
—tell  me  that." 

Mena  looked  at  him  timidly,  but  with  eyes  like 
her  mother's,  where  one  could  read  her  heart,  but 
she  dared  not  speak.  Only  once,  clinging  to  the 
jamb  of  the  door,  she  found  courage  to  say:  "I 
don't  ask  for  help,  if  only  you'll  stay  with  us.  Now 
that  I  haven't  my  mother,  I  feel  like  a  fish  out  of 
water;  I  don't  care  about  anything.  But  I  can't 
bear  the  idea  of  that  orphan,  Lia,  who  will  be  left 
without  anybody  if  you  go  away ;  like  Nunziata 
when  her  father  left  hen" 

"  No,"  said  'Ntoni,  "  no,  I  can  do  nothing  for 
you  if  I  stay  here ;  the  proverb  says  *  Help  yourself 
and  you'll  be  helped.'  When  I  have  made  some- 
thing worth  while  I'll  come  back,  and  we'll  all  be 
happy  together." 

Lia  and  Alessio  opened  their  large  round  eyes, 
and  seemed  quite  dazzled  by  this  prospect,  but  the 
old  man  let  his  head  fall  on  his  breast.  "  Now  you 
have  neither  father  nor  mother,  and  can  do  as  it 
seems  best  to  you,"  he  said  at  last.  "  While  I  live 
I  will  care  for  these  children,  and  when  I  die  the 
Lord  must  do  the  rest." 


196  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

Mena,  seeing  that  'Ntoni  would  go,  whether  or 
not,  put  his  clothes  in  order,  as  his  mother  would 
have  done,  and  thought  how  "over  there,"  in  strange 
lands,  her  brother  would  be  like  Alfio  Mosca,  with 
no  one  to  look  after  him.  And  while  she  sewed  at 
his  shirts,  and  pieced  his  coats,  her  head  ran  upon 
days  gone  by,  and  she  thought  of  all  that  had  pass- 
ed away  with  them  with  a  swelling  heart. 

"  I  cannot  pass  the  house  by  the  medlar  now," 
she  said,  as  she  sat  by  her  grandfather;  "I  feel 
such  a  lump  in  my  throat  that  I  am  almost 
choking,  thinking  of  all  that  has  happened  since 
we  left  it." 

And  while  she  was  preparing  for  her  brother's 
departure  she  wept  as  if  she  were  to  see  him  no 
more.  At  last,  when  everything  was  ready,  the 
grandpapa  calkd  his  boy  to  give  him  a  last  solemn 
sermon,  and  much  good  advice  as  to  what  he  was 
to  do  when  he  was  alone  and  dependent  only  on 
his  own  discretion,  without  his  family  about  him 
to  consult  or  to  condole  with  him  if  things  went 
wrong;  and  gave  him  some  money  too,  in  case  of 
need,  and  his  own  pouch  lined  with  leather,  since 
now  he  was  old  he  should  not  need  it  any  more. 

The  children,  seeing  their  brother  preparing  for 
departure,  followed  him  silently  about  the  house, 
hardly  daring  to  speak  to  him,  feeling  as  if  he  had 
already  become  a  stranger. 

"Just  so  my  father  went  away,"  said  Nunziata, 
who  had  come  to  say  good-bye  to  'Ntoni,  and  stood 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  197 

with  the  others  at  the  door.  After  that  no  one 
spoke. 

The  neighbors  came  one  by  one  to  take  leave  of 
Cousin  'Ntoni,  and  then  stood  waiting  in  the  street 
to  see  him  start.  He  lingered,  with  his  bundle  on 
his  shoulder  and  his  shoes  in  his  hand,  as  if  at  the 
last  moment  his  heart  had  failed  him.  He  looked 
about  him  as  if  to  fix  everything  in  his  memory, 
and  his  face  was  as  deeply  moved  as  any  there. 
His  grandfather  took  his  stick  to  accompany  him 
to  the  city,  and  Mena  went  off  into  a  corner,  where 
she  cried  silently. 

"  Come,  come,  now/'  said  'Ntoni.  "  I'm  not 
going  away  forever.  We'll  say  I'm  going  for  a 
soldier  again."  Then,  after  kissing  Mena  and  Lia, 
and  taking  leave  of  the  gossips,  he  started  to  go, 
and  Mena  ran  after  him  with  open  arms,  weeping 
aloud,  and  crying  out,  "What  will  mamma  say? 
What  will  mamma  say?"  as  if  her  mother  were 
alive  and  could  know  what  was  taking  place.  But 
she  only  said  the  thing  which  dwelt  most  strongly 
in  her  memory  when  'Ntoni  had  spoken  of  going 
away  before;  and  she  had  seen  her  mother  weep, 
and  used  to  find  her  pillow  in  the  morning  wet  with 
tears. 

"Adieu,  'Ntoni !"  Alessio  called  after  him,  taking 
courage  now  he  was  gone,  and  Lia  began  to  scream. 

"  Just  so  my  father  went,"  said  Nunziata,  who  had 
stayed  behind  the  others  at  the  door. 

'Ntoni  turned  at  the  corner  of  the  black  street. 


198  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

with  his  eyes  full  of  tears,  and  waved  his  hand  to 
them  in  token  of  farewell.  Mena  then  closed  the 
door  and  went  to  sit  down  in  a  corner  with  Lia, 
who  continued  to  sob  and  cry  aloud.  "  Now  an- 
other one  is  gone  away  from  the  house,"  she  re- 
peated. "If  we  had  been  in  the  house  by  the 
medlar  it  would  seem  as  empty  as  a  church." 

Mena,  seeing  her  dear  ones  go  away,  one  after 
the  other,  felt,  indeed,  like  a  fish  out  of  water. 
And  Nunziata,  lingering  there  beside  her,  with  the 
little  one  in  her  arms,  still  went  on  saying,  "Just 
so  my  father  went  away,  just  so  I" 


XII. 

PADRON  'NTONI,  now  that  he  had  no  one  but 
Alessio  to  help  him  with  the  boat,  had  to  hire  some 
one  by  the  day — Cousin  Nunzio,  perhaps,  who  had 
a  sick  wife  and  a  large  family  of  children  ;  or  the 
son  of  La  Locca,  who  came  whining  to  him  behind 
the  door  that  his  mother  was  starving,  and  that  his 
uncle  Crucifix  would  give  them  nothing,  because, 
he  said,  the  cholera  had  ruined  him,  so  many  of 
his  debtors  had  died  and  had  cheated  him  out  of 
his  money,  and  he  had  taken  the  cholera  himself. 
"  But  he  hadn't  died,"  added  the  son  of  La  Locca, 
and  shook  his  head  ruefully.  "  Now  we  might 
have  plenty  to  live  on,  I  and  my  mother  and  all 
the  family,  if  he  had  died.  We  stayed  two  days 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  199 

with  Vespa,  nursing  him,  and  it  seemed  as  if  he 
were  dying  every  minute,  but  he  didn't  die  after 
all."  However,  the  money  that  the  Malavoglia 
gained  day  by  day  was  often  not  enough  to  pay 
Cousin  Nunzio  or  the  son  of  La  Locca,  and  they 
were  obliged  to  take  up  those  precious  coins  so 
painfully  put  together  to  buy  back  the  house  by  the 
medlar-tree.  Every  time  Mena  went  to  take  the 
stocking  from  under  the  mattress  she  and  her 
grandfather  sighed.  La  Locca's  son  was  not  to 
blame,  poor  fellow — he  would  have  done  four  men's 
work  sooner  than  not  give  the  full  worth  of  his 
wages  —  it  was  the  fish,  that  would  not  let  them- 
selves be  caught.  And  when  they  came  ruefully 
home  empty,  rowing,  with  loosened  sails,  he  said 
to  Padron  'Ntoni :  "  Give  me  wood  to  split,  or  fag- 
ots to  bind ;  I  will  work  until  midnight,  if  you  say 
so,  as  I  did  with  my  uncle.  I  don't  want  to  steal 
the  wages  from  you." 

So  Padron  'Ntoni,  after  having  thought  the  mat- 
ter over  carefully,  consulted  Mena  as  to  what  was 
to  be  done.  She  was  clear-headed,  like  her  moth- 
er, and  she  was  the  only  one  left  for  him  to  consult 
— the  only  one  left  of  so  many !  The  best  thing 
was  to  sell  the  Provvidenza,  which  brought  in  noth- 
ing, and  only  ate  up  the  wages  of  Cousin  Nunzio 
or  the  son  of  La  Locca  to  no  purpose ;  and  the 
money  put  aside  for  the  house  was  melting  away, 
little  by  little.  The  Provvidenza  was  old,  and  al- 
ways needed  to  be  mended  every  now  and  then  to 


200  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

keep  her  afloat.  Later,  if  'Ntoni  came  back  and 
brought  better  fortune  once  more  among  them,  they 
might  buy  a  new  boat  and  call  that  also  the  Prov- 
videnza. 

On  Sunday  he  went  to  the  piazza,  after  the  mass, 
to  speak  to  Goosefoot  about  it.  Cousin  Tino  shrug- 
ged his  shoulders,  shook  his  head,  said  that  the 
Provvidenza  was  good  for  nothing  but  to  put  un- 
der the  pot,  and  talking  in  this  way  he  drew  him 
down  to  the  shore.  The  patches,  he  said,  could 
be  seen  under  the  paint,  like  some  women  he  knew 
of  with  wrinkles  under  their  stays ;  and  went  on 
kicking  her  in  the  hull  with  his  lame  foot.  Besides, 
the  trade  was  going  badly ;  rather  than  buy,  every- 
body was  trying  to  sell  their  boats,  much  better 
than  the  Provvidenza.  And  who  was  going  to  buy 
her?  Padron  Cipolla  didn't  want  old  stuff  like 
that.  This  was  an  affair  for  Uncle  Crucifix.  But 
at  this  moment  Uncle  Crucifix  had  something  else 
on  his  hands — with  that  demon-ridden  Vespa,  who 
was  tormenting  his  soul  out  running  after  all  the 
marriageable  men  in  the  place.  At  last,  for  old 
friendship's  sake,  he  agreed  to  go  and  speak  to 
Uncle  Crucifix  about  it,  if  he  found  him  in  a  good 
humor — if  Padron  'Ntoni  were  really  anxious  to  sell' 
the  Provvidenza  for  an  old  song;  for,  after  all,  he, 
Goosefoot,  could  make  Uncle  Crucifix  do  anything 
he  liked.  In  fact,  when  he  did  speak  of  it — draw- 
ing him  aside  towards  the  horse -trough — Uncle 
Crucifix  replied  with  shrugs  and  frantic  shakings 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  2O1 

of  his  head,  till  he  looked  like  one  possessed,  and 
tried  to  slip  out  of  Goosefoot's  hands.  Cousin 
Tino,  poor  man,  did  his  best— caught  him  by  the 
coat  and  held  him  by  force;  shook  him,  to  make 
him  give  his  attention ;  put  his  arm  round  his  neck, 
and  whispered  in  his  ear :  "  Yes,  you  are  an  ass 
if  you  let  slip  such  a  chance !  Going  for  an  old 
song,  I  tell  you !  Padron  'Ntoni  sells  her  because 
he  can't  manage  her  any  longer,  now  his  grandson 
is  gone.  But  you  could  put  her  into  the  hands  of 
Cousin  Nunzio,  or  of  your  own  nephew,  who  are 
dying  of  hunger,  and  will  work  for  next  to  noth- 
ing. Every  soldo  she  gains  will  come  into  your 
pocket.  I  tell  you,  you  are  a  fool.  The  boat  is  in 
perfectly  good  condition — good  as  new.  Old  Pa- 
dron 'Ntoni  knew  very  well  what  he  was  about 
when  he  had  her  built.  This  is  a  real  ready  money 
business — as  good  as  that  of  the  lupins,  take  my 
word  for  it !" 

But  Uncle  Crucifix  wouldn't  listen  to  him — almost 
crying,  with  his  yellow  hatchet-face  uglier  than  ever 
since  he  had  nearly  died  of  the  cholera— and  tried 
to  get  away,  even  to  the  point  of  leaving  his  jacket 
in  Uncle  Tino's  hands. 

"I  don't  care  about  it,"  said  he;  "I  don't  care 
about  anything.  You  don't  know  all  the  trouble  I 
have,  Cousin  Tino !  Everybody  wants  to  suck  my 
blood  like  so  many  leeches.  Here's  Vanni  Pizzuti 
running  after  Vespa,  too ;  they're  like  a  pack  of 
hunting-dogs." 


202  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

"  Why  don't  you  marry  her  yourself  ?  After  all, 
is  she  not  your  own  blood,  she  and  her  field  ?  It 
will  not  be  another  mouth  to  feed,  not  at  all !  She 
has  a  clever  pair  of  hands  of  her  own,  she  is  well 
worth  the. bread  she  eats,  that  woman.  You'll  have 
a  servant  without  wages,  and  the  land  will  be  yours. 
Listen,  Uncle  Crucifix:  you'll  have  another  affair 
here  as  good  as  that  of  the  lupins." 

Padron  'Ntoni  meanwhile  waited  for  the  answer 
before  Pizzuti's  shop,  and  watched  the  two  who 
were  discussing  his  affairs,  like  a  soul  in  purgatory. 
Now  it  seemed  as  if  everything  were  at  an  end, 
now  they  began  again,  and  he  tried  to  guess  wheth- 
er or  no  Uncle  Crucifix  would  consent  to  the  bar- 
gain. Goosefoot  came  and  told  him  how  much  he 
had  been  able  to  obtain  for  him,  then  went  back  to 
Uncle  Crucifix  —  going  backward  and  forward  in 
the  piazza  like  the  shuttle  in  the  loom,  dragging 
his  club-foot  behind  him,  until  he  had  succeeded  in 
bringing  them  to  an  agreement. 

"Capital!"  he  said  to  Padron  'Ntoni;  then  to 
Uncle  Crucifix,  "  For  an  old  song,  I  tell  you !" 
And  in  this  way  he  managed  the  sale  of  all  the 
tackle,  which,  of  course,  was  no  longer  of  any  use 
to  the  Malavoglia,  now  that  they  had  no  boat;  but 
it  seemed  to  Padron  'Ntoni  that  they  took  away  his 
very  heart  from  within  him,  as  he  saw  them  carry 
away  the  nets,  the  baskets,  the  oars,  the  rope — 
everything. 

"  I'll  manage  to  get  you  a  position  by  the  day, 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  203 

and  your  grandson  Alessio  too,  never  fear,"  said 
Goosefoot  to  Padron  'Ntoni ;  "but  you  mustn't  ex- 
pect high  wages,  you  know  !  i  Strength  of  youth 
and  wisdom  of  age/  For  my  assistance  in  the  bar- 
gaining I  trust  to  your  good-will." 

"  In  time  of  famine  one  eats  barley  bread,"  an- 
swered Padron  'Ntoni.  "  Necessity  has  no  nobil- 
ity." 

"That's  right,  that's  right!  I  understand,"  re- 
plied Goosefoot,  and  away  he  went,  in  good  earnest, 
to  speak  to  Padron  Cipolla  at  the  drug-store,  where 
Don  Silvestro  had  at  last  succeeded  in  enticing 
him,  as  well  as  Master  Filippo  and  a  few  other  big- 
wigs, to  talk  over  the  affairs  of  the  Commune — 
for  after  all,  the  money  was  theirs,  and  it  is  silly 
not  to  take  one's  proper  place  in  the  government 
when  one  is  rich  and  pays  more  taxes  than  all  the 
rest  put  together. 

"  You,  who  are  rich,  can  afford  a  bit  of  bread  to 
that  poor  old  Padron  'Ntoni,"  suggested  Goosefoot. 
"  It  will  cost  you  nothing  to  take  him  on  by  the 
day,  him  and  his  grandson  Alessio.  You  know 
that  he  understands  his  business  better  than  any 
one  else  'n  the  place,  and  he  will  be  content  with 
little,  fox'  they  are  absolutely  without  bread.  It  is 
an  affair  worth  gold  to  you,  Padron  Fortunato;  it 
is  indeed." 

Padron  Fortunato,  caught  as  he  was  just  at  that 
propitious  moment,  could  not  refuse ;  but  after  hig- 
gling and  screwing  over  the  price — for,  now  that 


204  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

the  times  were  so  bad,  he  really  hadn't  work  for 
any  more  men— he  at  last  made  a  great  favor  of 
taking  on  Padron  'Ntoni. 

"  Yes,  I'll  take  him  if  he'll  come  and  speak  to 
me  himself.  Will  you  believe  that  they  are  out 
of  temper  because  I  broke  off  my  son's  marriage 
with  Mena?  A  fine  thing  I  should  have  made 
of  it !  And  to  be  angry  about  it !  What  could 
I  do  ?" 

Don  Silvestro,  Master  Filippo,  Goosefoot  himself 
— all  of  them,  in  fact — hastened  to  say  that  Pa- 
dron Fortunate  was  quite  right. 

Mena,  meanwhile,  did  not  even  put  her  nose  at 
the  window,  for  it  was  not  seemly  to  do  so  now  that 
her  mother  was  dead  and  she  had  a  black  kerchief 
on  her  head;  and,  besides,  she  had  to  look  after 
the  little  one  and  to  be  a  mother  to  her,  and  she  had 
no  one  to  help  her  in  the  housework,  so  that  she 
had  to  go  to  the  tank  to  wash  and  to  the  fountain, 
and  to  take  the  men  their  luncheon  when  they  were 
at  work  on  land;  so  that  she  was  not  Sant'Agata 
any  longer,  as  in  the  days  when  no  one  ever  saw 
her  and  she  was  all  day  long  at  the  loom.  In  these 
days  she  had  but  little  time  for  the  loom.  Don 
Michel.e,  since  the  day  when  the  Zuppidda  had 
given  him  such  a  talking  to  from  her  terrace,  and 
had  threatened  to  put  out  his  eyes  with  her  distaff, 
never  failed  to  pass  by  the  black  street;  and  some- 
times he  passed  two  or  three  times  a  day,  looking 
after  Barbara,  because  he  wasn't  going  to  have  peo- 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  205 

pie  say  that  he  was  afraid  of  the  Zuppidda  or  of  her 
distaff;  and  when  he  passed  the  house  where  the 
Malavoglia  lived  he  slackened  his  pace,  and  looked 
in  to  see  the  pretty  girls  who  were  growing  up  at 
the  Malavoglia's. 

In  the  evening,  when  the  men  came  back  from 
sea,  they  found  everything  ready  for  them :  the  pot 
boiling  on  the  fire,  the  cloth  ready  on  the  table — • 
that  table  that  was  so  large  for  them,  now  that  they 
were  so  few,  that  they  felt  lost  at  it.  They  shut  the 
door  and  ate  their  supper  in  peace ;  then  they  sat 
down  on  the  door-step  to  rest  after  the  fatigues  of 
the  day.  At  all  events,  they  had  enough  for  the 
day's  needs,  and  were  not  obliged  to  touch  the 
money  that  was  accumulating  for  the  house.  Pa- 
dron  'Ntoni  had  always  that  house  in  his  mind, 
with  its  closed  windows  and  the  medlar-tree  rising 
above  the  wall.  Maruzza  had  not  been  able  to  die 
in  that  house,  nor  perhaps  should  he  die  there ; 
but  the  money  was  beginning  to  grow  again,  and 
his  boys  at  least  would  go  back  there  some  day  or 
other,  now  that  Alessio  was  growing  into  a  man, 
and  was  a  good  boy,  and  one  of  the  true  Malavoglia 
stamp.  When  they  had  bought  back  the  house,  and 
married  the  girls,  if  they  might  get  a  boat  again 
they  would  have  nothing  more  to  wish  for,  and  Pa- 
dron  'Ntoni  might  close  his  eyes  in  peace. 

Nunziata  and  Anna,  their  cousin,  came  to  sit  on 
the  stones  with  them  in  the  evenings  to  talk  over 
old  times,  for  they,  too,  were  left  lonely  and  deso- 


206  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

late,  so  that  they  seemed  like  one  family.  Nun- 
ziata  felt  as  if  she  were  at  home  in  the  house,  and 
came  with  her  brood  running  after  her,  like  a  hen 
with  her  chickens.  Alessio,  sitting  clown  by  her, 
would  say,  "  Did  you  finish  your  linen  ?"  or  "Are 
you  going  on  Monday  to  Master  Filippo  to  help 
with  the  vintage  ?  Now  that  the  olive  harvest  is 
coming  you'll  always  find  a  day's  work  somewhere, 
even  when  you  haven't  any  washing  to  do ;  and  you 
can  take  your  brother,  too;  they'll  give  him  two  soldi 
a  day."  Nunziata  talked  to  him  gravely,  and  asked 
his  advice  with  regard  to  her  plans,  and  they  talk- 
ed apart  together,  as  if  they  had  already  been  a 
gray-haired  old  couple. 

"  They  have  grown  wise  in  their  youth  because 
they  have  had  so  much  trouble,"  said  Padron  'Ntoni. 
"Wisdom  comes  of  suffering." 

Alessio,  with  his  arms  round  his  knees  like  his 
grandfather,  asked  Nunziata,  "  Will  you  have  me 
for  a  husband  when  I  grow  up  ?" 

"Plenty  of  time  yet  to  think  about  that,"  replied 
she. 

"  Yes,  there's  time,  but  one  must  begin  to  think 
about  it  now,  so  that  one  may  settle  what  is  to  be 
done.  First,  of  course,  we  must  marry  Mena,  and 
Lia  when  she  is  grown  up.  Lia  wants  to  be  dress- 
ed like  a  woman  now,  and  you  have  your  boys  to 
find  places  for.  We  must  buy  a  boat  first ;  the 
boat  will  help  us  to  buy  the  house.  Grandfather 
wants  to  buy  back  the  house  by  the  medlar,  and  I 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  207 

should  like  that  best,  too,  for  I  know  my  way  all 
about  it,  even  in  the  dark,  without  running  against 
anything;  and  the  court  is  large,  so  that  there's 
plenty  of  room  for  the  tackle ;  and  in  two  minutes 
one  is  at  the  sea.  Then,  when  my  sisters  are  mar- 
ried, grandfather  can  stay  with  us,  and  we'll  put 
him  in  the  big  room  that  opens  on  the  court,  where 
the  sun  comes  in;  so,  when  he  isn't  able  to  go  to 
sea  any  longer,  poor  old  man !  he  can  sit  by  the 
door  in  the  court,  and  in  the  summer  the  medlar- 
tree  will  make  a  shade  for  him.  We'll  take  the 
room  on  the  garden.  You'll  like  that  ?  The  kitch- 
en is  close  by,  so  you'll  have  everything  under  your 
hand,  won't  you  ?  When  my  brother  'Ntoni  comes 
back  we'll  give  him  that  room,  and  we'll  take  the 
one  up-stairs;  there  are  only  the  steps  to  climb  to 
reach  the  kitchen  and  the  garden." 

"  In  the  kitchen  there  must  be  a  new  hearth," 
said  Nunziata.  "The  last  time  we  cooked  any- 
thing there,  when  poor  Cousin  Maruzza  was  too 
unhappy  to  do  it  herself,  we  had  to  prop  up  the  pot 
with  stones." 

"  Yes,  I  remember,"  said  Alessio,  sitting  with  his 
chin  in  his  hands,  and  nodding  gravely,  with  wide 
dreamy  eyes  as  if  he  saw  Nunziata  at  the  fire  and 
his  poor  mother  weeping  beside  the  bed. 

"And  you,  too,"  said  he,  "can  find  your  way  in 
the  dark  about  the  house  by  the  medlar,  you  have 
been  there  so  often.  Mamma  always  said  you  were 
a  good  girl." 


208  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

"  Now  they  have  sown  onions  in  the  garden,  and 
they're  grown  as  big  as  oranges." 

"  Do  you  like  onions  ?" 

"  I  must;  I  have  no  choice.  They  help  the  bread 
down,  and  they  are  cheap.  When  we  haven't  mon- 
ey enough  to  buy  macaroni  we  always  eat  them — I 
and  my  little  ones." 

"  For  that  they  sell  so  well.  Uncle  Crucifix 
doesn't  care  about  planting  cabbages  or  lettuce  at 
the  house  by  the  medlar,  because  he  has  them  at 
his  own  house,  and  so  he  puts  nothing  there  but 
onions.  But  we'll  plant  broccoli  and  cauliflower. 
Won't  they  be  good,  eh  ?" 

The  girl,  with  her  arms  across  her  knees,  curled 
upon  the  threshold,  looked  out  with  dreaming  eyes, 
as  well  as  the  boy;  then  after  a  while  she  began  to 
sing,  and  Alessio  listened  with  all  his  ears.  At  last 
she  said,  "  There's  plenty  of  time  yet." 

"Yes,"  assented  Alessio ;  "first  we  must  marry 
Mena  and  Lia,  and  we  must  find  places  for  the 
boys,  but  we  must  begin  to  talk  it  over  now." 

"  When  Nunziata  sings,"  said  Mena,  coming  to 
the  door,  "  it  is  a  sign  that  it  will  be  fair  weather, 
and  we  can  go  to-morrow  to  wash." 

Cousin  Anna  was  in  the  same  mind,  for  her 
field  and  vineyard  was  the  washing-tank,  and  her 
feast-days  were  those  on  which  she  had  her  hands 
full  of  clothes  to  be  washed ;  all  the  more  now  that 
her  son  Rocco  was  feasting  himself  every  day, 
after  his  fashion,  at  the  tavern,  trying  to  drown  his 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  2CX) 

regret  for  the  Mangiacarubbe,  who  had  thrown 
him  over  for  Brasi  Cipolla,  like  a  coquette  as  she 
was. 

" '  It's  a  long  lane  that  has  no  turning/  "  said 
Padron  'Ntoni.  "Perhaps  this  may  bring  your  son 
Rocco  to  his  senses.  And  it  will  be  good  for  my 
'Ntoni,  too,  to  be  away  from  home  for  a  while ;  for 
when  he  comes  back,  and  is  tired  of  wandering 
about  the  world,  everything  will  seem  as  it  should 
be,  and  he  will  not  complain  any  more.  And  if  we 
succeed  in  once  more  putting  our  own  boat  at  sea — 
and  it's  putting  our  own  beds  in  the  old  places  that 
we  know  so  well — you  will  see  what  pleasant  times 
we  shall  have  resting  on  the  door-steps  there,  when 
we  are  tired  after  our  day's  work,  when  the  day  has 
been  a  good  one.  And  how  bright  the  light  will 
look  in  that  room  where  you  have  seen  it  so  often, 
and  have  known  all  the  faces  that  were  dearest 
to  you  on  earth !  But  now  so  many  are  gone,  and 
never  have  come  back,  that  it  seems  as  if  the  room 
would  be  always  dark,  and  the  door  shut,  as  if  those 
who  are  gone  had  taken  the  key  with  them  forever. 
'Ntoni  should  not  have  gone  away,"  added  the  old 
man,  after  a  long  silence.  "  He  knew  that  I  was 
old,  and  that  when  I  am  gone  the  children  will 
have  no  one  left." 

"  If  we  buy  the  house  by  the  medlar  while  he 
is  gone,"  said  Mena,  "he  won't  know  it,  and  will 
come  here  to  find  us." 

Padron   'Ntoni    shook    his    head    sadly.      "  But 


210  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

there's  time  enough  yet,"  he  said  at  last,  like  Nun- 
ziata;  and  Cousin  Anna  added,  "If  'Ntoni  comes 
back  rich  he  can  buy  the  house." 

Padron  'Ntoni  answered  nothing,  but  the  whole 
place  knew  that  'Ntoni  would  come  back  rich,  now 
he  had  been  gone  so  long  in  search  of  fortune; 
and  many  envied  him  already,  and  wanted  to  go  in 
search  of  fortune  too,  like  him.  In  fact  they  were 
not  far  wrong.  They  would  only  leave  a  few  women 
to  fret  after  them,  and  the  only  ones  who  hadn't 
the  heart  to  leave  their  women  were  that  stupid  son 
of  La  Locca,  whose  mother  was  what  everybody 
knew  she  was,  and  Rocco  Spatu,  whose  soul  was 
at  the  tavern.  Fortunately  for  the  women,  Padron 
'Ntoni's  'Ntoni  was  suddenly  discovered  to  have 
come  back,  by  night,  in  a  bark  from  Catania, 
ashamed  to  show  himself,  as  he  had  no  shoes.  If 
it  were  true  that  he  had  come  back  rich  he  had 
nowhere  to  put  his  money,  for  his  clothes  were  all 
rags  and  tatters.  But  his  family  received  him  as 
affectionately  as  if  he  had  come  back  loaded  with 
gold.  His  sisters  hung  round  his  neck,  crying  and 
laughing  for  joy,  and  'Ntoni  did  not  know  Lia 
again,  so  tall  she  was,  and  they  all  said  to  him, 
"  Now  you  won't  leave  us  again,  will  you  ?" 

The  grandfather  blew  his  nose  and  growled, 
"  Now  I  can  die  in  peace — now  that  these  children 
will  not  be  left  alone  in  the  world." 

But  for  a  whole  week  'Ntoni  never  showed  him- 
self in  the  street.  Every  one  laughed  when  they 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  211 

saw  him,  and  Goosefoot  went  about  saying,  "  Have 
you  seen  the  grand  fortune  that  Padron  'Ntoni's 
'Ntoni  has  brought  home?"  And  those  who  had 
not  been  in  such  a  terrible  hurry  to  make  up  their 
bundles  of  shirts  and  stockings,  to  leave  their  homes 
like  a  lot  of  fools,  could  not  contain  themselves 
for  laughing. 

Whoever  goes  in  search  of  fortune  and  does  not 
find  it  is  a  fool.  Everybody  knows  that.  Don  Sil- 
vestro,  Uncle  Crucifix,  Padron  Cipolla,  Master  Fi- 
lippo,  were  not  fools,  and  everybody  did  their  best 
to  please  them,  because  poor  people  always  stand 
with  their  mouths  open  staring  at  the  rich  and 
fortunate,  and  work  for  them  like  Cousin  Mosca's 
ass,  instead  of  kicking  the  cart  to  pieces  and  run- 
ning off  to  roll  on  the  grass  with  heels  in  the 
air. 

The  druggist  was  quite  right  when  he  said  that 
it  was  high  time  to  kick  the  world  to  pieces  and 
make  it  over  again.  And  he  himself,  with  his  big 
beard  and  his  fine  talk  about  making  the  world 
over  again,  was  one  of  those  who  had  known  how 
to  make  a  fortune,  and  to  hold  on  to  it  too,  and  he 
had  nothing  to  do  but  to  stand  at  his  door  and 
chat  with  this  one  and  that  one;  for  when  he  had 
done  pounding  that  little  bit  of  dirty  water  in  his 
mortar  his  work  was  finished  for  the  day.  That 
fine  trade  he  had  learned  of  his  father — to  make 
money  out  of  the  water  in  the  cistern.  But  'Ntoni's 
grandfather  had  taught  him  a  trade  which  was 


212  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

nothing  but  breaking  one's  arms  and  one's  back  all 
day  long,  and  risking  one's  life,  and  dying  of  hun- 
ger, and  never  having. a  day  to  one's  self  when  one 
could  lie  on  the  grass  in  the  sun,  as  even  Mosca's 
ass  could  sometimes  do ;  a  real  thieves'  trade,  that 
wore  one's  soul  out,  by  Our  Lady!  And  he  for  one 
was  tired  of  it,  and  would  rather  be  like  Rocco 
Spatu,  who  at  least  didn't  work.  And  for  that  mat- 
ter he  cared  nothing  for  Barbara,  nor  Sara,  nor  any 
other  girl  in  the  world.  They  care  for  nothing 
but  fishing  for  husbands  to  work  worse  than  dogs 
to  give  them  their  living,  and  buy  silk  handker- 
chiefs for  them  to  wear  when  they  stand  at  their 
doors  of  a  Sunday  with  their  hands  on  their  full 
stomachs.  He'd  rather  stand  there  himself,  Sunday 
and  Monday  too,  and  all  the  other  days  in  the 
week,  since  there  was  no  good  in  working  all  the 
time  for  nothing.  So  'Ntoni  had  learned  to  spout 
as  well  as  the  druggist — that  much  at  least  he  had 
brought  back  from  abroad — for  now  his  eyes  were 
open  like  a  kitten's  when  it  is  nine  days  old.  "The 
hen  that  goes  in  the  street  comes  home  with  a  full 
crop."  If  he  hadn't  filled  his  crop  with  anything  else, 
he  had  filled  it  with  wisdom,  and  he  went  about 
telling  all  he  had  learned  in  the  piazza  in  Pizzuti's 
shop,  and  also  at  Santuzza's  tavern.  Now  he  went 
openly  to  the  tavern,  for  after  all  he  was  grown  up, 
and  his  grandfather  wasn't  likely  to  come  there 
after  him  and  pull  his  ears,  and  he  should  know 
very  well  what  to  say  to  anybody  who  tried  to  hin- 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  213 

der  him  from  going  there  after  the  little  pleasure 
that  there  was  to  be  had. 

His  grandfather,  poor  man,  instead  of  pulling  his 
ears,  tried  to  touch  his  feelings.  "  See,1'  he  said, 
"  now  you  have  come,  we  shall  soon  be  able  to  man- 
age to  get  back  the  house."  Always  that  same  old 
song  about  the  house.  "  Uncle  Crucifix  has  prom- 
ised not  to  sell  it  to  any  one  else.  Your  mother, 
poor  dear,  was  not  able  to  die  there.  We  can  get 
the  dowry  for  Mena  on  the  house.  Then,  with 
God's  help,  we  can  set  up  another  boat ;  because,  I 
must  tell  you,  that  at  my  age  it  is  hard  to  go  out  by 
the  clay,  and  obey  other  people,  when  one  has  been 
used  to  command.  You  were  also  born  of  masters. 
Would  you  rather  that  we  should  buy  the  boat  first 
with  the  money,  instead  of  the  house  ?  Now  you 
are  grown  up,  and  can  have  your  choice,  because 
you  have  seen  more  of  the  world,  and  should  be 
wiser  than  I  am  now  I  am  old.  What  would  you 
rather  do  ?" 

He  would  rather  do  nothing,  that's  what  he  would 
rather  do.  What  did  he  care  about  the  boat  or  the 
house  ?  Then  there  would  come  another  bad  year, 
another  cholera,  some  other  misfortune,  and  eat  up 
the  boat  and  the  house,  and  they  would  have  to 
begin  all  over  again,  like  the  ants.  A  fine  thing ! 
And  when  they  had  got  the  boat  and  the  house, 
could  they  leave  off  working,  or  could  they  eat  meat 
and  macaroni  every  day  ?  While  instead,  down 
there  where  he  had  been,,  there  were  people  that 


214  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

went  about  in  carriages  every  day;  that's  what  they 
did.  People  beside  whom  Don  Franco  and  the 
town-clerk  were  themselves  no  better  than  beasts 
of  burden,  working,  as  they  did,  all  day  long,  spoil- 
ing paper  and  beating  dirty  water  in  a  mortar.  At 
least  he  wanted  to  know  why  there  should  be  peo- 
ple in  the  world  who  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  enjoy 
themselves,  and  were  born  with  silver  spoons  in 
their  mouths,  and  others  who  had  nothing,  and 
must  drag  a  cart  with  their  teeth  all  their  lives. 
Besides  which,  that  idea  of  going  out  by  the  day  was 
not  at  all  to  his  taste;  he  was  born  a  master— his 
grandfather  had  said  so  himself.  He  to  be  order- 
ed about  by  a  lot  of  people  who  had  risen  from 
nothing,  who,  as  everybody  in  the  place  knew,  had 
put  their  money  together  soldo  after  soldo,  sweat- 
ing and  struggling!  He  had  gone  out  by  the  day 
only  because  his  grandfather  took  him,  and  he 
hadn't  strength  of  mind  to  refuse.  But  when  the 
overseer  stood  over  him  like  a  dog,  and  called  out 
from  the  stern,  "  Now,  then,  boy,  what  are  you  at  ?" 
he  felt  tempted  to  hit  him  over  the  head  with  the 
oar,  and  he  preferred  to  weave  baskets  or  to  mend 
nets,  sitting  on  the  beach,  with  his  back  against  a 
stone,  for  then  if  he  folded  his  arms  for  a  minute 
nobody  called  out  at  him. 

Thither  came  also  Rocco  Spatu  to  yawn  and 
stretch  his  arms,  and  Vanni  Pizzuti,  between  one 
customer  and  another,  in  his  idle  moments ;  and 
Goosefoot  came  there  too,  for  his  business  was  to 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  215 

mix  himself  up  with  every  conversation  that  he 
could  find  in  search  of  bargaining  ;*  and  they  talk- 
ed of  all  that  happened  in  the  place. 

From  one  thing  to  another  they  got  talking  of 
Uncle  Crucifix,  who  had,  they  said,  lost  more  than 
thirty  scudi,  through  people  that  had  died  of  the 
cholera  and  had  left  pledges  in  his  hands.  Now, 
Dumb-bell,  not  knowing  what  to  do  with  all  these 
ear-rings  and  finger-rings  that  had  remained  on  his 
hands,  had  made  up  his  mind  to  marry  Vespa;  the 
thing  was  certain,  they  had  been  seen  to  go  togeth- 
er to  write  themselves  up  at  the  Municipality,  in 
Don  Silvestro's  presence. 

"  It  is  not  true  that  he  is  marrying  on  account  of 
the  jewellery,"  said  Goosefoot,  who  was  in  a  posi- 
tion to  know;  "the  things  are  of  gold  or  of  silver, 
and  he  could  go  and  sell  them  by  weight  in  the 
city;  he  would  have  got  back  a  good  percentage 
on  the  money  he  had  lent  on  them.  He  marries 
Vespa  because  she  took  him  to  the  Municipality  to 
show  him  the  paper  that  she  had  had  drawn  up, 
ready  to  be  signed  before  the  notary,  with  Cousin 
Spatu  here,  now  that  the  Mangiacarubbe  has  drop- 
ped him  for  Brasi  Cipolla.  Excuse  me.  Eh,  Cous- 
in Rocco  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind,  Cousin  Tino,"  answered  Roc- 
co Spatu.  "  It  is  nothing  to  me ;  for  whoever  trusts 

*  Senseru — a  sort  of  very  small  brokerage,  upon  which  a 
tiny  percentage  is  paid. 


2l6  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

to  one  of  those  false  cats  of  womankind  is  worse 
than  a  pig.  I  don't  want  any  sweetheart  except 
Santuzza,  who  lets  me  have  my  wine  on  credit  when 
I  like,  and  she  is  worth  two  of  the  Mangiacarubbe 
any  day  of  the  week.  A  good  handful,  eh,  Cousin 
-Tino  ?" 

"  Pretty  hostess,  heavy  bill,"  said  Pizzuti,  spitting 
in  the  sand. 

"They  all  look  out  for  husbands  to  work  for 
them,"  added  'Ntoni.  "  They're  all  alike." 

"  And,"  continued  Goosefoot,  "  Uncle  Crucifix 
ran  off  panting  to  the  notary,  with  his  heart  in  his 
mouth.  So  he  had  to  take  the  Wasp  after  all." 

Here  the  apothecary,  who  had  come  down  to  the 
beach  to  smoke  his  pipe,  joined  in  the  conversa- 
tion, and  went  on  pounding  in  his  usual  way  upon 
his  usual  theme  that  the  world  ought  to  be  put  in  a 
mortar  and  pounded  to  pieces,  and  made  all  over 
again.  But  this  time  he  really  might  as  well  have 
pounded  dirty  water  in  his  mortar,  for  not  one  of 
them  understood  a  word  he  said,  unless,  perhaps, 
it  were  'Ntoni.  He  at  least  had  seen  the  world, 
and  opened  his  eyes,  like  the  kittens  ;  when  he  was 
a  soldier  they  had  taught  him  to  read,  and  for  that 
reason  he,  too,  went  to  the  drug- shop  door  and 
listened  when  the  newspaper  was  read,  and  stayed 
to  talk  with  the  druggist,  who  was  a  good-natured 
fellow,  and  did  not  give  himself  airs  like  his  wife, 
who  kept  calling  out  to  him,  "Why  will  you  mix 
yourself  up  with  what  doesn't  concern  you  ?" 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  217 

"  One  must  let  the  women  talk,  and  manage  things 
quietly,"  said  Don  Franco,  as  soon  as  his  wife  was 
safe  up-stairs.  He  didn't  mind  taking  counsel  even 
with  those  who  went  barefoot,  provided  they  didn't 
put  their  feet  on  the  chairs,  and  explained  to  them 
word  for  word  all  that  there  was  printed  in  the 
newspaper,  following  it  with  his  ringer,  telling  them 
that  the  world  ought  to  go,  as  it  was  written  down 
there. 

XIII. 

PADRON  'NTONI,  when  his  grandson  came  home 
to  him  drunk  in  the  evening,  did  his  best  to  get  him 
off  to  bed  without  letting  him  be  seen  by  the  others, 
because  such  a  thing  had  never  been  known  among 
the  Malavoglia,  and  old  as  he  was,  it  brought  the 
tears  to  his  eyes.  When  he  got  up  by  night  to  call 
Alessio  to  go  out  to  sea,  he  let  the  other  one  sleep  ; 
for  that  matter,  he  wouldn't  have  been  of  any  use  if 
he  had  gone.  At  first  'Ntoni  was  ashamed  of  him- 
self, and  went  down  to  the  landing  to  meet  them 
with  bent  head.  But  little  by  little  he  grew  hard- 
ened, and  said  to  himself,  "  So  I  shall  have  another 
Sunday  to-morrow,  too !" 

The  poor  old  man  did  everything  he  could  think 
of  to  touch  his  heart,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to 
take  a  shirt  of  his  to  Don  Giammaria  to  be  exor- 
cised, which  cost  him  thirty  centimes. 

"  See,"  he  said  to  'Ntoni,  "such  things  were  never 


2l8  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

known  among  the  Malavoglia !  If  you  take  the 
downward  road,  like  Rocco  Spatu,  your  brother  and 
your  sister  will  go  after  you.  '  One  black  sheep 
spoils  the  flock.'  And  those  few  pence  which  we 
have  put  together  with  such  pains  will  all  go  again 
— '  for  one  fisherman  the  boat  was  lost ' — and  what 
shall  we  do  then  ?" 

'Ntoni  stood  with  his  head  down,  or  growled 
something  between  his  teeth ;  but  the  next  day  it 
was  the  same  thing  over  again ;  and  once  he  said : 

"  At  least  if  I  lose  my  head,  I  forget  my  misery." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  misery  ?  You  are  young, 
you  are  healthy,  you  understand  your  business;  what 
do  you  want  more  ?  I  am  old,  your  brother  is  but 
a  boy,  but  we  have  pulled  ourselves  out  of  the 
ditch.  Now,  if  you  would  help  us  we  might  become 
once  more  what  we  were  in  other  days ;  not  happy 
as  we  were  then,  for  the  dead  cannot  return  to 
us,  but  without  other  troubles ;  and  we  should  be 
together,  Mike  the  fingers  of  a  hand/  and  should  have 
bread  to  eat.  If  I  close  my  eyes  once  for  all,  what 
is  to  become  of  you?  See,  now  I  tremble  every 
time  we  put  out  to  sea,  lest  I  should  never  come 
back.  And  I  am  old  !" 

When  his  grandfather  succeeded  in  touching  his 
heart  'Ntoni  would  begin  to  cry.  His  brother  and 
sisters,  who  knew  all,  would  run  away  and  shut 
themselves  up,  almost  as  if  he  were  a  stranger,  or 
as  if  they  were  afraid  of  him ;  and  his  grandfather, 
with  his  rosary  in  his  hand,  muttered,  "  O  blessed 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  2IQ 

soul  of  Bastianazzo !  O  soul  of  my  daughter-in-law 
Maruzza !  pray  that  a  miracle  may  be  worked  for  us." 
When  Mena  saw  him  coming,  with  pale  face  and 
shining  eyes,  she  met  him,  saying,  "  Come  this  way  ; 
grandfather  is  in  there  !"  and  brought  him  in  through 
the  little  door  of  the  kitchen ;  then  sat  down  and 
cried  quietly  by  the  hearth  ;  so  that  at  last  one  even- 
ing 'Ntoni  said,  "  I  won't  go  to  the  tavern  again,  no, 
not  if  they  kill  me  !"  and  went  back  to  his  work  with 
all  his  former  good-will;  nay,  he  even  got  up  earlier 
than  the  rest,  and  went  down  to  the  beach  to  wait 
for  them  while  it  wanted  still  two  hours  to  day ;  the 
Three  Kings  were  shining  over  the  church-tower, 
and  the  crickets  could  be  heard  trilling  in  the  vine- 
yards as  if  they  had  been  close  by.  The  grand- 
papa could  not  contain  himself  for  joy ;  he  went  on 
all  the  time  talking  to  him,  to  show  how  pleased  he 
was,  and  said  to  himself,  "  It  is  the  blessed  souls 
of  his  father  and  his  mother  that  have  worked  this 
miracle." 

The  miracle  lasted  all  the  week,  and  when  Sun- 
day came  'Ntoni  wouldn't  even  go  into  the  piazza, 
lest  he  should  see  the  tavern  even  from  a  distance, 
or  meet  his  friends,  who  might  call  him.  But  he 
dislocated  his  jaws  yawning  all  that  long  day,  when 
there  was  nothing  to  be  done.  He  wasn't  a  child, 
to  go  about  among  the  bushes  on  the  down,  sing- 
ing, like  Nunziata  and  his  brother  Alessio;  or  a  girl, 
to  sweep  the  house,  like  Mena ;  nor  was  he  an  old 
man,  to  spend  the  day  mending  broken  barrels  or 


220  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

baskets,  like  his  grandfather.  He  sat  by  the  door 
in  the  little  street,  where  not  even  a  hen  passed  by 
the  door,  and  listened  to  the  voices  and  the  laugh- 
ter at  the  tavern.  He  went  to  bed  early  to  pass 
the  time,  and  got  up  on  Monday  morning  sulky  as 
ever.  His  grandfather  said  to  him,  "  It  would  be 
better  for  you  if  Sunday  never  came,  for  the  day 
after  you  are  just  as  if  you  were  sick."  That  was 
what  would  be  best  for  him  —  that  there  should 
not  even  be  Sunday  to  rest  in ;  and  his  heart  sank 
to  think  that  every  day  should  be  like  Monday.  So 
that  when  he  came  back  from  the  fishing  in  the 
evening,  he  would  not  even  go  to  bed,  but  went 
about  here  and  there  bemoaning  his  hard  fate,  and 
ended  by  going  back  to  the  tavern.  At  first  when 
he  used  to  come  home  uncertain  of  his  footing,  he 
slipped  in  quietly,  and  stammered  excuses,  or  went 
silently  to  bed;  but  now  he  was  noisy,  and  dis- 
puted with  his  sister,  who  met  him  at  the  door  with 
a  pale  face  and  red  eyes,  and  told  him  to  come  in 
by  the  back  way,  for  that  grandfather  was  there. 

"  I  don't  care,"  he  replied.  The  next  clay  lie 
got  up  looking  wretchedly  ill,  and  in  a  very  bad 
humor,  and  took  to  scolding  and  swearing  all  day 
long. 

Once  there  was  a  very  sad  scene.  His  grand- 
father, not  knowing  what  to  do  to  touch  his  heart, 
drew  him  into  the  corner  of  the  little  room,  with 
the  doors  shut  that  the  neighbors  might  not  hear, 
and  said  to  him,  crying  like  a  child,  the  poor  old 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  221 

man!  "Oh,  'Ntoni,  don't  you  remember  that  here 
your  mother  died?  Why  should  you  disgrace  your 
mother,  turning  out  as  badly  as  Rocco  Spatu  ? 
Don't  you  see  how  poor  Cousin  Anna  works  all  the 
time  for  that  big  drunkard  of  a  son  of  hers,  and 
how  she  weeps  at  times  because  she  has  not  bread 
to  give  to  her  other  children,  and  has  no  longer 
the  heart  to  laugh?  i  Who  goes  with  wolves  turns 
wolf/  and  'who  goes  with  cripples  one  year  goes 
lame  the  next.'  Don't  you  remember  that  night  of 
the  cholera  that  we  were  all  gathered  around  that 
bed,  and  she  confided  the  children  to  your  care  ?" 

'Ntoni  cried  like  a  weaned  calf,  and  said  he 
wished  he  could  die,  too;  but  afterwards  he  went 
back — slowly,  indeed,  and  as  if  unwillingly,  but  still 
he  did  go  back — to  the  tavern,  and  at  night,  instead 
of  coming  home,  he  wandered  about  the  streets, 
and  leaned  against  the  walls,  half  dead  with  fatigue, 
with  Rocco  Spatu  and  Cinghialenta;  or  he  sang  and 
shouted  with  them,  to  drive  away  his  melancholy. 

At  last  poor  old  Padron  'Ntoni  got  so  that  he 
was  ashamed  to  show  himself  in  the  street.  His 
grandson,  instead,  to  get  rid  of  his  sermons,  came 
home  looking  so  black  that  nobody  felt  inclined  to 
speak  to  him.  As  if  he  didn't  preach  plenty  of 
sermons  to  himself;  but  it  was  all  the  fault  of  his 
fate  that  he  had  been  born  in  such  a  state  of  life. 
And  he  went  off  to  the  druggist,  or  to  whoever  else 
would  listen  to  him,  to  exhaust  himself  in  speeches 
about  the  injustice  of  everything  that  there  was  in 


222  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

this  world ;  that  if  a  poor  fellow  went  to  Santuzza's 
to  drink  and  forget  his  troubles,  he  was  called  a 
drunkard;  while  those  who  drank  their  own  wine  at 
home  had  no  troubles,  nor  any  one  to  reprove  them 
or  hunt  them  off  to  work,  but  were  rich  enough  for 
two,  and  did  not  need  to  work,  while  we  were  all 
the  sons  of  God,  and  everybody  ought  to  share  and 
share  alike. 

"That  fellow  has  talent,"  said  the  druggist  to 
Don  Silvestro  or  Padron  Cipolla  or  to  anybody 
else  whom  he  could  find.  "  He  sees  things  in  the 
lump,  but  an  idea  he  has.  It  isn't  his  fault  if  he 
doesn't  express  himself  properly,  but  that  of  the 
Government,  that  leaves  him  in  ignorance."  For 
his  instruction  he  lent  him  the  Secolo  (\htAge)  and 
the  Gazette  of  Catania. 

But  'Ntoni  very  soon  got  tired  of  reading  ;  first, 
because  it  was  troublesome,  and  because  while  he 
was  a  soldier  they  had  made  him  learn  to  read  by 
force;  but  now  he  was  at  liberty  to  do  as  he  liked, 
and,  besides,  he  had  forgotten  a  good  deal  of  it, 
and  how  the  words  came  one  after  another  in 
printing.  And  all  that  talk  in  print  didn't  put  a 
penny  in  his  pocket.  What  did  it  matter  to  him? 
Don  Franco  explained  to  him  how  it  mattered  to 
him ;  and  when  Don  Michele  passed  across  the  pi- 
azza he  shook  his  head  at  him,  winking,  and  point- 
ed out  to  him  how  he  came  after  Donna  Rosolina 
as  well  as  others,  for  Donna  Rosolina  had  money, 
and  gave  it  to  people  to  get  herself  married. 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  223 

"  First  we  must  clear  away  all  these  fellows  in 
uniform.  We  must  make  a  revolution,  that's  what 
we  must  do." 

"And  what  will  you  give  me  to  make  the  revolu- 
tion?" 

Don  Franco  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  went 
back  to  his  mortar,  for  talking  to  such  people  as 
that  was  just  beating  water  with  a  pestle,  neither 
more  nor  less,  he  said. 

But  Goosefoot  said,  as  soon  as  'Ntoni's  back  was 
turned,  "  He  ought  to  get  rid  of  Don  Michele,  for 
another  reason — he's  after  his  sister ;  but  'Ntoni  is 
worse  than  a  pig  now  that  Santuzza  has  taken  to 
keeping  him."  Goosefoot  felt  Don  Michele  to  be  a 
weight  on  his  mind  since  that  active  official  had 
taken  to  looking  askance  at  Rocco  Spatu  and  Cing- 
hialenta  and  himself  whenever  he  saw  them  to- 
gether; for  that  he  wanted  to  get  rid  of  him. 

Those  poor  Malavoglia  had  come  to  such  a  pass 
that  they  were  the  talk  of  the  place,  on  account  of 
their  brother.  Now,  everybody  knew  that  Don 
Michele  often  walked  up  and  down  the  black  street 
to  spite  the  Zuppidda,  who  was  always  mounting 
guard  over  her  girl,  with  her  distaff  in  her  hand. 
And  Don  Michele,  not  to  lose  time,  had  taken  to 
looking  at  Lia,  who  had  now  become  a  very  pretty 
girl  and  had  no  one  to  look  after  her  except  her 
sister,  who  would  say  to  her,  "  Come,  Lia,  let  us  go 
in;  it  is  not  nice  for  us  to  stand  at  the  door  now 
we  are  orphans." 


224  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

But  Lia  was  vain,  worse  than  her  brother  'Ntoni, 
and  she  liked  to  stand  at  the  door,  that  people 
might  see  her  pretty  flowered  kerchief,  and  have 
people  say  to  her,  "  How  pretty  you  look  in  that 
kerchief,  Cousin  Lia!"  while  Don  Michele  devoured 
her  with  his  eyes  Poor  Mena,  while  she  stood  at 
the  door  waiting  for  her  drunken  brother  to  come 
home,  felt  so  humbled  and  abased  that  she  wanted 
the  energy  to  order  her  sister  to  come  in  because 
Don  Michele  passed  by,  and  Lia  said : 

"Are  you  afraid  he  will  eat  me  ?  Nobody  wants 
any  of  us  now  that  we  have  got  nothing  left.  Look 
at  my  brother,  even  the  dogs  will  have  nothing  to 
say  to  him!" 

If  'Ntoni  had  a  spark  of  courage,  said  Goosefoot, 
he  would  get  rid  of  that  Don  Michele.  But  'Ntoni 
had  another  reason  for  wishing  to  get  rid  of  Don 
Michele.  Santuzza,  after  having  quarrelled  with 
Don  Michele,  had  taken  a  fancy  to  'Ntoni  Mala- 
voglia  for  that  fashion  he  had  of  wearing  his  cap, 
and  of  swaggering  a  little  when  he  walked,  that  he 
had  learned  when  he  was  a  soldier,  and  used  to 
hide  for  him  behind  the  counter  the  remains  of  the 
customers'  dinners,  and  to  fill  his  glass  as  well  now 
and  then  on  the  sly.  In  this  way  she  kept  him 
about  the  tavern,  as  fat  and  as  sleek  as  the  butch- 
er's dog.  'Ntoni  meantime  discharged  himself,  to 
a  certain  extent,  of  his  obligation  to  her  by  taking 
her  part,  sometimes  even  to  the  extent  of  thumps, 
with  those  unpleasant  people  who  chose  to  find 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  225 

fault  with  their  bills,  and  to  scold  and  swear  about 
the  place  for  ever  so  long  before  they  would  con- 
sent to  pay  them.  With  those  who  were  friends 
with  the  hostess,  on  the  contrary,  he  was  chatty 
and  pleasant,  and  kept  an  eye  on  the  counter,  too, 
while  Santuzza  went  to  confession;  so  that  every 
one  there  liked  him  and  treated  him  as  if  he  were 
at  home.  All  but  Uncle  Santoro,  who  looked 
askance  at  him,  and  muttered,  between  one  Ave 
Maria  and  another,  against  him,  and  how  he  lived 
upon  his  girl  like  a  canon,  without  lifting  a  finger; 
Santuzza  replying  that  she  was  the  mistress,  and  if 
it  were  her  pleasure  to  keep  'Ntoni  Malavoglia  for 
herself  as  fat  as  a  canon,  she  should  do  it ;  she  had 
no  need  of  anybody. 

"Yes,  yes,"  growled  Uncle  Santoro,  when  he  could 
get  her  for  a  minute  by  herself.  "You  always 
need  Don  Michele !  Master  Filippo  has  told  me 
time  and  again  that  he  means  to  have  done  with  it, 
that  he  won't  keep  the  wine  in  the  cellar  any  lon- 
ger, and  we  must  get  it  into  the  place  contraband." 

"  Don  Filippo  must  attend  to  his  own  affairs. 
But  I  tell  you  once  for  all,  that  if  I  have  to  pay 
the  duty  twice  over,  I  won't  have  Don  Michele 
here  again.  I  won't,  I  won't!" 

She  could  not  forgive  Don  Michele  the  ugly 
trick  he  had  played  her  with  the  Zuppidda,  after 
all  that  time  that  he  had  lived  like  a  fighting-cock 
at  the  tavern  for  love  of  his  uniform ;  and  'Ntoni 
Malavoglia,  with  no  uniform  at  all,  was  worth  ten 


226  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

of  Don  Michele ;  whatever  she  gave  to  him  she 
gave  with  all  her  heart.  In  this  way  'Ntoni  earn- 
ed his  living,  and  when  his  grandfather  reproved 
him  for  doing  nothing,  or  his  sister  looked  grave- 
ly at  him  with  her  large  melancholy  eyes,  he 
would  reply : 

"  And  do  I  ask  you  for  anything  ?  I  don't  spend 
any  money  out  of  the  house,  and  I  earn  my  own 
bread." 

"  It  would  be  better  that  you  should  die  of  hun- 
ger," said  his  grandfather,  "and  that  we  all  fell  dead 
on  the  spot." 

At  last  they  spoke  no  more  to  each  other,  turn- 
ing their  backs  as  they  sat.  Padron  'Ntoni  was 
driven  to  silence  sooner  than  quarrel  with  his 
grandson,  and  'Ntoni,  tired  of  being  preached  to, 
left  them  there  whining,  and  went  off  to  Rocco 
Spatu  and  Cousin  Vanni,  who  at  least  were  jolly 
and  could  find  every  day  Gome  new  trick  to  play 
off  on  somebody.  They  found  one,  one  day,  which 
was  to  serenade  Uncle  Crucifix  the  night  of  his 
marriage  with  his  niece  Vespa,  and  they  brought 
under  his  windows  all  the  crew,  to  whom  Uncle 
Crucifix  would  no  longer  lend  a  penny,  with  broken 
pots  and  bottles,  sheep's  bells,  and  whistles  of  cane, 
making  the  devil's  own  row  until  midnight;  so  that 
Vespa  got  up  the  next  morning  rather  greener  than 
usual,  and  railed  at  that  hussy  of  a  Santuzza,  in 
whose  tavern  all  that  noisy  raff  had  got  up  that 
nasty  trick ;  and  it  was  all  out  of  jealousy  she  had 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  227 

done  it,  because  she  couldn't  get  married  herself  as 
Vespa  had. 

Everybody  laughed  at  Uncle  Crucifix  when  he 
appeared  in  the  piazza  in  his  new  clothes,  yellow 
as  a  corpse,  and  half  frightened  out  of  his  wits  at 
Vespa  and  the  money  she  had  made  him  spend 
for  his  new  clothes.  Vespa  was  always  spending 
and  spilling,  and  if  he  had  left  her  alone  would 
have  emptied  his  money-bags  in  a  fortnight ;  and 
she  said  that  now  she  was  mistress,  so  that  there 
was  the  devil  to  pay  between  them  every  day.  His 
wife  planted  her  nails  in  his  face,  and  screamed 
that  she  was  going  to  keep  the  keys  herself ;  that 
she  didn't  see  why  she  should  want  a  bit  of  bread 
or  a  new  kerchief  worse  than  she  did  before ;  and 
if  she  had  known  what  was  to  come  of  her  mar- 
riage, with  such  a  husband,  too !  she  would  have 
kept  her  fields  and  her  medal  of  the  Daughters  of 
Mary.  And  he  screamed,  too,  that  he  was  ruined ; 
that  he  was  no  longer  master  in  his  own  house ; 
that  now  he  had  the  cholera  in  his  house  in  good 
earnest;  that  they  wanted  to  kill  him  before  his 
time,  to  waste  the  money  that  he  had  spent  his  life 
in  putting  together !  He,  too,  if  he  had  known 
how  it  would  be,  would  have  seen  them  both  at 
the  devil,  his  wife  and  her  fields,  first;  that  he  didn't 
need  a  wife,  and  they  had  frightened  him  into  tak- 
ing Vespa,  telling  him  that  Brasi  Cipolla  was  going 
to  run  off  with  her  and  her  fields.  Cursed  be  her 
fields ! 


228  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

Just  at  this  point  it  came  out  that  Brasi  Cipolla 
had  allowed  himself  to  be  taken  possession  of  by 
the  Mangiacarubbe,  like  a  great  stupid  lout  as  he 
was  ;  and  Padron  Fortunato  was  always  hunting  for 
them  up  and  down  on  the  heath,  in  the  ravine,  un- 
der the  bridge,  everywhere,  foaming  at  the  mouth, 
and  swearing  that  if  he  caught  them  he  would  kick 
them  as  long  as  he  could  stand,  and  would  wring 
his  son's  ears  off  for  him.  Uncle  Crucifix,  at  this, 
became  quite  desperate,  and  said  that  the  Mangia- 
carubbe  had  ruined  him  by  not  running  off  with 
Brasi  a  week  sooner.  "This  is  the  will  of  God !"  he 
said,  beating  his  breast.  "  The  will  of  God  is  that  I 
should  have  taken  this  Wasp  to  expiate  my  sins." 
And  his  sins  must  have  been  heavy,  for  the  Wasp 
poisoned  the  bread  in  his  mouth,  and  made  him 
suffer  the  pains  of  purgatory  both  by  day  and  by 
night. 

The  neighbors  never  came  near  the  Malavoglia 
now,  any  more  than  if  the  cholera  were  still  in  the 
house;  but  left  her  alone,  with  her  sister  in  her 
flowered  kerchief,  or  with  Nunziata  and  her  cousin 
Anna,  when  they  had  the  charity  to  come  and  chat 
with  her  a  bit.  As  for  Anna,  she  was  as  badly  off  as 
they  were  with  her  drunkard  of  a  son,  and  now  ev- 
erybody knew  all  about  it ;  and  Nunziata,  too,  who 
had  been  so  little  when  that  scamp  of  a  father  of 
hers  had  deserted  her  and  gone  elsewhere  to  seek 
his  fortune.  The  poor  things  felt  for  each  other, 
for  that  very  reason,  when  they  talked  together,  in 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE   MEDLAR-TREE.  2 29 

low  tones,  with  bent  heads  and  hands  folded  under 
their  aprons,  and  also  when  they  were  silent,  each 
absorbed  in  her  own  pain. 

"When  people  are  as  badly  off  as  we  are,"  said 
Lia,  speaking  like  a  grown-up  woman,  "every  one 
must  take  care  of  one's  self,  and  look  after  one's 
own  interests." 

Don  Michele,  every  now  and  then,  would  stop 
and  joke  with  them  a  little,  so  that  the  girls  got 
used  to  his  gold-bound  cap,  and  were  no  longer 
afraid  of  him ;  and,  little  by  little,  Lia  began  to  joke 
with  him  herself,  and  to  laugh  at  him;  nor  did  Mena 
dare  to  scold  her,  or  to  leave  her  and  go  into  the 
kitchen,  now  they  had  no  mother,  but  stayed  with 
them  crouching  on  the  door-step,  looking  up  and 
down  the  street  with  her  tired  eyes.  Now  that 
they  were  deserted  by  the  neighbors,  they  felt  their 
hearts  swell  with  gratitude  towards  Don  Michele, 
who,  with  all  his  uniform,  did  not  disdain  to  stop 
at  the  Malavoglia's  door  for  a  chat  now  and  then. 
And  if  Don  Michele  found  Lia  alone  he  would 
look  into  her  eyes,  pulling  his  mustaches,  with  his 
gold-bound  cap  on  one  side,  and  say  to  her,  "  What 
a  pretty  girl  you  are,  Cousin  Malavoglia!" 

Nobody  else  had  ever  told  her  that,  so  she  turned 
as  red  as  a  tomato. 

"  How  does  it  happen  that  you  are  not  yet  mar- 
ried ?"  Don  Michele  asked  her  one  day. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  answered  that 
she  did  not  know. 


230  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

"  You  ought  to  have  a  dress  of  silk  and  wool,  and 
long  ear-rings;  and  then,  upon  my  word,  there'd  be 
many  a  fine  city  lady  not  fit  to  hold  a  candle  to 
you." 

"A  dress  of  silk  and  wool  would  not  be  a  proper 
thing  for  me,  Don  Michele,"  replied  Lia. 

"  But  why?  Hasn't  the  Zuppidda  one?  And 
the  Mangiacarubbe,  now  that  she  has  caught  Brasi 
Cipolla,  won't  she  have  one  too  ?  And  Vespa,  too, 
can  have  one  if  she  likes." 

"They  are  rich,  they  are." 

"  Cruel  fate  !"  cried  Don  Michele,  striking  the 
hilt  of  his  sword  with  his  fist.  "  I  wish  I  could  win 
a  tern  in  the  lottery,  Cousin  Lia.  Then  I'd  show 
you  what  I'd  do." 

Sometimes  Don  Michele  would  add,  "Permit 
-me,"  with  his  hand  to  his  cap,  and  sit  down  near 
them  on  the  stones.  Mena  thought  he  came  for 
Barbara,  and  said  nothing.  But  to  Lia  Don  Mi- 
chele swore  that  he  did  not  come  there  on  account 
of  Barbara,  that  he  never  had,  that  he  never  should, 
that  he  was  thinking  of  quite  a  different  person — 
did  not  Cousin  Lia  know  that  ?  And  he  rubbed 
his  chin  and  twisted  his  mustaches  and  stared  at 
her  like  a  basilisk.  The  girl  turned  all  sorts  of  "col- 
ors, and  got  up  to  run  into  the  house ;  but  Don 
Michele  caught  her  by  the  hand,  and  said  : 

"  Do  you  wish  to  offend  me,  Cousin  Malavoglia  ? 
Why  do  you  treat  me  in  this  way  ?  Stay  where  you 
are ;  nobody  means  to  eat  you." 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  23! 

So,  while  they  were  waiting  for  the  men  to  come 
back  from  sea,  they  passed  the  time,  she  in  the 
door,  and  Don  Michele  on  the  stones,  breaking 
little  twigs  to  pieces  because  he  did  not  know  what 
to  do  with  his  hands.  Once  he  asked  her,  "Would 
you  like  to  go  and  live  in  town  ?" 

"  What  should  I  do  in  town  ?" 

"  That's  the  place  for  you  !  You  were  not  meant 
to  live  here  with  these  peasants,  upon  my  honor ! 
You  are  of  a  better  sort  than  they  are ;  you  ought  to 
live  in  a  pretty  little  cottage,  or  in  a  villa,  and  to  go 
to  the  marina,  or  to  the  promenade  when  there  is 
music,  dressed  prettily,  as  I  should  like  to  see  you 
—  with  a  pretty  silk  kerchief  on  your  head,  and 
an  amber  necklace.  Here  I  feel  as  if  I  were  living 
in  the  midst  of  pigs.  Upon  my  honor  I  can  hardly 
wait  for  the  time  when  I  shall  be  promoted,  and 
recalled  to  town,  as  they  have  promised  me,  next 
year." 

Lia  began  to  laugh  as  if  it  were  all  a  joke,  shak- 
ing her  shoulders  at  the  idea.  She,  who  didn't 
know  even  what  silk  kerchiefs  or  amber  necklaces 
were  like. 

Then  one  day  Don  Michele  drew  out  of  his  pock- 
et, with  great  mystery,  a  fine  red  and  yellow  silk 
kerchief  wrapped  up  in  a  pretty  paper,  and  wanted 
to  make  a  present  of  it  to  Cousin  Lia. 

"  No,  no !"  said  she,  turning  fiery  red.  "  I  wouldn't 
take  it,  no,  not  if  you  killed  me." 

Don  Michele  insisted.     "  I  did  not  expect  this, 


232  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

Cousin  Lia;  I  do  not  deserve  this."  But  after  all, 
he  had  to  wrap  the  kerchief  once  more  in  the  paper 
and  put  it  back  into  his  pocket. 

After  this,  whenever  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  Don 
Michele,  Lia  ran  off  to  hide  herself  in  the  house, 
fearing  that  he  would  try  to  give  her  the  kerchief. 
It  was  in  vain  that  Don  Michele  passed  up  and 
down  the  street,  the  Zuppidda  screaming  at  him  all 
the  time;  in  vain  that  he  stretched  his  neck  peer- 
ing into  the  Malavoglia's  door;  no  one  was  ever  to 
be  seen,  so  that  at  last  he  made  up  his  mind  to  go 
in.  The  girls,  when  they  saw  him  standing  before 
them,  stared,  open-mouthed,  trembling  as  if  they  had 
the  ague,  not  knowing  what  to  do. 

"You  would  not  take  the  silk  kerchief,  Cousin 
Lia,"  he  said  to  the  girl,  who  turned  red  as  a  poppy, 
"  but  I  have  come  all  the  same,  because  I  like  you 
all  so  much.  What  is  your  brother  'Ntoni  doing 
now?" 

Now  Mena  turned  red  too,  when  he  asked  what 
her  brother  'Ntoni  was  doing,  for  he  was  doing 
nothing.  And  Don  Michele  went  on  :  "I  am  afraid 
he  will  do  something  that  you  will  not  like,  your 
brother  'Ntoni.  I  am  your  friend,  and  I  take  no 
notice ;  but  when  another  brigadier  comes  in  my 
place  he  will  be  wanting  to  know  what  your  brother 
is  always  about  with  Cinghialenta  and  that  other 
pretty  specimen,  Rocco  Spatu,  down  by  the  Rotolo 
in  the  evening,  or  walking  about  the  downs,  as  if 
they  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  wear  out  their  shoes. 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  233 

Look  after  him  well,  Cousin  Mena,  and  listen  to 
what  I  tell  you ;  tell  him  not  to  go  so  much  with 
that  meddling  old  wretch  Goosefoot,  in  Vanni  Piz- 
zuti's  shop,  for  we  know  everything ;  and  he  will 
come  to  harm  among  them.  The  others  are  old 
foxes.  And  you  had  better  tell  your  grandfather 
to  stop  him  from  walking  so  much  up  and  down 
the  beach,  for  the  beach  is  not  meant  to  walk  about 
on ;  and  the  cliffs  of  the  Rotolo  have  ears,  tell  him ; 
and  one  can  see  very  well,  even  without  glasses,  the 
boats  that  put  out  from  there  at  dusk,  as  if  they 
were  going  to  fish  for  bats.  Tell  him  this,  Cousin 
Mena;  and  tell  him,  too,  that  this  warning  comes 
from  one  who  is  your  friend.  As  for  Master  Cin- 
ghialenta,  and  Rocco  Spatu,  and  Vanni  Pizzuti  as 
well,  we  have  our  eye  on  them.  Your  brother  trusts 
old  Goosefoot,  but  he  does  not  know  that  the  coast- 
guards have  a  percentage  on  smuggled  goods,  and 
that  they  always  manage  to  get  hold  of  some  one 
of  a  gang,  and  give  him  a  share  to  spy  on  them 
that  they  may  be  surprised." 

Mena  opened  her  eyes  still  wider,  and  turned 
pale,  without  quite  understanding  all  this  long 
speech ;  but  she  had  been  trembling  already  for 
fear  that  her  brother  would  get  into  trouble  with 
the  men  in  uniform.  Don  Michele,  to  give  her 
courage,  took  her  hand,  and  went  on  : 

"  If  it  came  to  be  known  that  I  had  warned  you, 
it  would  be  all  over  with  me.  I  am  risking  my 
uniform  in  telling  you  this,  because  I  am  so  fond  of 


234  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

all  you  Malavoglia.  But  I  should  be  very  sorry  if 
your  brother  got  into  trouble.  No,  I  don't  want 
to  meet  him  some  night  in  some  ugly  place  where 
he  has  no  business ;  no,  I  wouldn't  have  it  happen 
to  catch  a  booty  worth  a  thousand  francs,  upon  my 
honor  I  wouldn't." 

The  poor  girls  hadn't  a  moment's  peace  after 
Don  Micheie  had  warned  them  of  this  new  cause 
of  anxiety.  They  didn't  shut  their  eyes  of  a  night, 
waiting  behind  the  door  for  their  brother,  some- 
times until  very  late,  trembling  with  cold  and  terror, 
while  he  went  singing  up  and  down  the  streets  with 
Rocco  Spatu  and  the  rest  of  the  gang ,  and  the  poor 
girls  seemed  to  hear  the  cries  and  the  shots  as  they 
had  heard  them  that  night  when  there  was  the  talk 
of  hunting  two-legged  quail. 

"You  go  to  bed,  and  to  sleep,"  said  Mena  to  her 
sister ;  "  you  are  too  young  for  such  things  as  this." 

To  her  grandfather  she  said  nothing,  for  she 
wished  to  spare  him  this  fresh  trouble,  but  to  'Ntoni, 
when  she  saw  him  a  little  more  quiet  than  usual, 
sitting  at  the  door  with  his  chin  upon  his  hands, 
she  took  courage  to  say :  "  What  are  you  doing, 
going  about  with  Rocco  Spatu  and  Cinghialen- 
ta?  You  have  been  seen  with  them  at  the  Rotolo 
and  on  the  downs.  And  beware  of  Goosefoot. 
Remember  how  Jesus  said  to  John,  '  Beware  of 
them  whom  God  has  marked.' " 

"  Who  told  you  that  ?"  said  'Ntoni,  leaping  up  as 
if  he  were  possessed.  "  Tell  me  who  told  you." 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  235 

"  Don  Michele  told  me,"  she  answered,  with  tear- 
ful eyes.  "  He  told  me  that  you  should  beware  of 
Goosefoot,  and  that  to  catch  the  smugglers  they 
had  to  get  information  from  some  one  of  the  gang." 

"He  told  you  nothing  else  ?" 

"  No,  he  told  me  nothing  else." 

Then  'Ntoni  swore  that  there  wasn't  a  word  of 
truth  in  the  whole  of  it,  and  told  her  she  mustn't 
tell  his  grandfather.  Then  he  got  up  and  went  off 
in  a  hurry  to  the  tavern  to  drown  his  worries  in  wine, 
and  if  he  met  any  of  the  fellows  in  uniform  he  gave 
them  a  wide  berth.  After  all,  Don  Michele  really 
knew  nothing  about  it,  and  only  talked  at  random 
to  frighten  him  because  he  was  jealous  about  San- 
tuzza,  who  had  turned  him  (Don  Michele)  out  of 
the  house  like  a  mangy  dog.  And,  in  short,  he 
wasn't  afraid  either  of  Don  Michele  or  of  any  of 
his  crew,  that  were  paid  to  suck  the  blood  of  the 
people.  A  fine  thing,  to  be  sure  !  Don  Michele 
had  no  need  to  help  himself  in  that  fashion,  fat  and 
sleek  as  he  was,  and  he  must  needs  try  to  lay  hands 
on  some  poor  helpless  devil  or  other  if  he  tried  to 
get  hold  of  a  stray  five-franc  piece.  And  that  oth- 
er idea,  too,  that  to  get  anything  in  from  outside  the 
country  one  must  pay  the  duty,  as  if  the  things  had 
been  stolen  !  And  Don  Michele  and  his  spies  must 
come  poking  their  noses  into  it.  They  were  free 
to  take  whatever  they  liked,  and  were  paid  for  doing 
it;  but  others,  if  they  tried  at  the  risk  of  their  lives 
to  get  their  goods  on  shore,  were  treated  worse  than 


236  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

thieves,  and  shot  down  like  wolves  with  pistols  and 
carbines.  But  it  never  was  a  sin  to  rob  thieves. 
Don  Giammaria  said  so  himself  in  the  druggist's 
shop.  And  Don  Franco  nodded,  beard  and  all,  and 
sneered  that  when  they  got  a  republic  there  would 
be  no  more  such  dirty  work  as  that. 

"  Nor  of  those  devil's  officials,"  added  the  vicar. 

"  A  lot  of  idle  fellows  who  are  paid  for  carrying 
guns  about!"  snarled  the  druggist,  "  like  the  priests, 
who  take  forty  centimes  for  saying  a  mass.  Tell 
us,  Don  Giammaria,  how  much  capital  do  you  put 
into  the  masses  that  you  get  paid  for  ?" 

"About  as  much  as  you  put  into  that  dirty  water 
that  you  make  us  pay  the  eyes  out  of  our  heads 
for,"  said  the  priest,  foaming  at  the  mouth. 

Don  Franco  had  learned  to  laugh  like  Don  Sil- 
vestro,  just  on  purpose  to  put  Don  Giammaria  into 
a  passion ;  and  he  went  on,  without  listening  to 
him : 

"  Yes,  in  half  an  hour  their  work  is  done,  and 
they  can  amuse  themselves  for  the  rest  of  the  day, 
just  the  same  as  Don  Michele,  who  goes  flitting 
about  like  a  great  ugly  bird  all  day  long,  now  that 
he  doesn't  keep  the  benches  warm  at  Santuzza's 
any  more." 

"  For  that,  he  has  taken  it  up  with  me,"  inter- 
posed 'Ntoni ;  "  and  he  is  as  cross  as  a  bear,  and 
goes  swaggering  about,  because  he  has  a  sabre  tied 
to  him.  But,  by  Our  Lady's  blood!  one.  time  or 
another,  I'll  beat  it  about  his  head,  that  sabre  of 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  237 

his,  to  show  him  how  much  I  care  for  it  and  for 
him." 

"Bravo!"  exclaimed  the  druggist.  " That's  the 
way  to  talk !  The  people  ought  to  show  their  teeth. 
But  not  here;  I  don't  want  a  fuss  in  my  shop. 
The  Government  would  give  anything  to  get  me 
into  a  scrape,  but  I  don't  care  to  have  anything  to 
do  with  their  judges  and  tribunals  and  the  rest  of 
their  machinery." 

'Ntoni  Malavoglia  raised  his  fist  in  the  air,  and 
swore  that  he  was  going  to  have  done  with  it,  once 
for  all,  if  he  went  to  the  galleys  for  it — for  the  mat- 
ter of  that,  he  had  nothing  to  lose.  Santuzza  no 
longer  looked  upon  him  as  she  formerly  did,  so 
much  had  her  father  obtained  of  her,  always  whin- 
ing and  wheedling  at  her  between  one  Ave  Maria 
and  another,  since  Master  Filippo  had  left  off  keep- 
ing his  wine  in  their  cellar.  He  said  that  the  cus- 
tomers were  thinning  off  like  flies  at  Saint  An- 
drew's Day,  now  they  no  longer  found  Master 
Filippo's  wine,  which  they  had  drunk  ever  since 
they  were  babies.  Uncle  Santoro  kept  on  saying 
to  his  daughter:  "What  do  you  want  with  that 
great  useless  'Ntoni  Malavoglia  always  about  the 
place?  Don't  you  see  that  he  is  eating  you  out  of 
house  and  home,  to  no  purpose?  You  fatten  him 
like  a  pig,  and  then  he  goes  off  and  makes  eyes  at 
Vespa  or  the  Mangtacarubbe,  now  that  they  are 
rich;"  or  he  said,  "Your  customers  are  leaving 
you  because  you  always  have  'Ntoni  after  you,  so 


238  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

that  nobody  has  a  chance  to  laugh  or  talk  with 
you;"  or,  "He's  so  dirty  and  ragged  that  he  is  a 
shame  to  foe  seen;  the  place  looks  like  a  stable, 
and  people  don't  want  to  drink  out  of  the  glasses 
after  him.  Don  Michele  looked  well  at  the  door, 
with  his  cap  with  the  gold  braid.  People  like  to 
drink  their  wine  in  peace  when  they  have  paid  for 
it,  and  they  like  to  see  a  man  with  a  sabre  at  the 
door,  and  everybody  took  off  their  caps  to  him,  and 
nobody  was  likely  to  deny  a  debt  to  you  while  he 
was  about.  Now  that  he  doesn't  come,  Master  Fi- 
lippo  doesn't  come  either.  The  other  day  he  was 
passing,  and  I  wanted  him  to  come  in,  but  he  said 
it  was  of  no  use  now,  for  he  couldn't  get  anything 
in  contraband  any  longer,  now  you  had  quarrelled 
with  Don  Michele — which  is  neither  good  for  the 
soul  nor  for  the  body.  People  are  beginning  to 
murmur  already,  and  to  say  that  the  charity  you 
give  to  'Ntoni  is  not  blameless,  and  if  it  goes  on 
the  vicar  may  hear  of  it,  and  you  may  lose  your 
medal." 

At  first  Santuzza  held  out,  for,  as  she  said,  she 
was  determined  to  be  mistress  in  her  own  house ; 
but  afterwards  she  began  to  see  things  in  another 
light,  and  no  longer  treated  'Ntoni  as  she  used  to 
do.  If  there  was  anything  left  at  meals  she  did 
not  give  it  to  him,  and  she  left  the  glasses  dirty, 
and  gave  him  no  wine ;  so  that  at  last  he  began  to 
look  cross,  and  then  she  told  him  that  she  didn't 
want  any  idk  fellows  about  the  place,  and  that  she 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  239 

and  her  father  earned  their  bread,  and  that  he 
ought  to  do  the  same.  Couldn't  he  help  a  bit 
about  the  house,  chopping  wood  or  blowing  up  the 
fire,  instead  of  always  shouting  and  screaming 
about,  or  sleeping  with  his  head  on  his  arms,  or 
else  spitting  about  everywhere  so  that  one  didn't 
know  where  to  set  one's  foot  ?  'Ntoni  for  a  while 
did  chop  the  wood,  or  blew  the  fire,  which  he  pre- 
ferred, as  it  was  easier  work.  But  he  found  it  hard 
to  work  like  a  dog,  worse  than  he  did  at  home,  and 
be  treated  like  a  dog  into  the  bargain,  with  hard 
words  and  cross  looks — and  all  for  the  sake  of  the 
dirty  plates  they  gave  him  to  lick. 

At  last,  one  day  when  Santuzza  had  just  come 
back  from  confession,  he  made  a  scene,  complain- 
ing that  Don  Michele  had  begun  to  hover  about 
the  house  again,  and  that  he  had  waited  for  her  in 
the  piazza  when  she  came  home  from  church,  and 
that  Uncle  Santoro  had  called  to  him  when  he 
heard  his  voice  as  he  was  passing,  and  had  follow- 
ed him  as  far  as  Vanni  Pizzuti's  shop,  feeling  the 
walls  with  his  stick.  Santuzza  flew  into  a  passion, 
and  said  that  he  had  come  on  purpose  to  bring 
her  into  sin  again,  and  make  her  lose  her  com- 
munion. 

"  If  you  are  not  pleased  you  can  go,"  she  said. 
"  Did  I  say  anything  when  I  saw  you  running  after 
Vespa  and  the  Mangiacarubbe,  now  that  they  have 
got  themselves  married?" 

But  'Ntoni  swore  there  wasn't  a  word  of  truth  in 


240  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

it,  that  he  didn't  go  running  after  any  women,  and 
that  she  might  spit  in  his  face  if  she  saw  him  speak- 
ing to  either  of  them. 

"  No,  you  won't  get  rid  of  him  that  way,"  said 
Uncle  Santoro.  "  Don't  you  see  that  he  won't 
leave  you  because  he  lives  at  your  expense  ?  You 
won't  get  him  out  unless  you  kick  him  out.  Mas- 
ter Filippo  has  told  me  that  he  can't  keep  his  new 
wine  any  longer  in  the  barrels,  and  that  he  won't 
let  you  have  it  unless  you  make  it  up  with  Don  Mi- 
chele,  and  help  him  to  smuggle  it  in  as  he  used  to 
do."  And  he  went  off  after  Master  Filippo  to 
Vanni  Pizzuti's  shop,  feeling  his  way  along  the 
walls  with  his  stick. 

His  daughter  put  on  haughty  airs,  protesting  that 
she  never  would  forgive  Don  Michele  after  the 
ugly  trick  he  had  played  her. 

"  Let  me  manage  it,"  said  Uncle  Santoro.  "  I 
assure  you  I  can  be  discreet  enough  about  it. 
Don't  believe  I  will  ever  let  you  go  back  and  lick 
Don  Michele' s  boots.  Am  I  your  father,  or  not?" 

'Ntoni,  since  Santuzza  had  begun  to  be  rude  to 
him,  was  obliged  to  look  somewhere  else  for  his 
dinner,  for  he  was  ashamed  to  go  home — where  all 
the  time  his  people  were  thinking  of  him  with  every 
mouthful  they  ate,  feeling  almost  as  if  he  were 
dead  too ;  and  they  did  not  even  spread  the  cloth 
any  more,  but  sat  scattered  about  the  room  with 
the  plates  on  their  knees. 

"  This  is  the  last  blow  for  me,  in  my  old  age," 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE   MEDLAR-TREE.  241 

said  his  grandfather,  and  those  who  saw  him  pass, 
bent  down  with  the  nets  on  his  shoulders,  on  his 
way  to  his  day's  work,  said  to  each  other : 

"This  is  Padron  'Ntoni's  last  winter.  It  will 
not  be  long  before  those  orphans  are  left  quite  alone 
in  the  world." 

And  Lia,  when  Mena  told  her  to  stay  in  the 
house  when  Don  Michele  passed  by,  answered, 
with  a  pout:  "Yes,  it  is  worth  while  staying  in  the 
house,  for  such  precious  persons  as  we  are!  You 
needn't  be  afraid  anybody  '11  want  to  steal  us." 

"Oh,  if  your  mother  were  here  you  wouldn't 
talk  in  that  way,"  murmured  Mena. 

"  If  my  mother  were  here  I  shouldn't  be  an  or- 
phan, and  shouldn't  have  to  take  care  of  myself. 
Nor  would  'Ntoni  go  wandering  about  the  streets, 
until  it  is  a  shame  to  hear  one's  self  called  his  sis- 
ter. And  not  a  soul  would  think  of  taking  'Ntoni 
Malavoglia's  sister  for  a  wife." 

'Ntoni,  now  that  he  was  in  bad  luck,  was  not 
ashamed  to  show  himself  everywhere  with  Rocco 
Spatu,  and  with  Cinghialenta,  on  the  downs  and 
by  the  Rotolo,  and  was  seen  whispering  to  them 
mysteriously,  like  a  lot  of  wolves.  Don  Michele 
came  back  to  Mena,  saying,  "  Your  brother  will 
play  you  an  ugly  trick  some  day,  Cousin  Mena." 

Mena  was  driven  to  going  out  to  look  for  her 
brother  on  the  downs,  or  towards  the  Rotolo,  or  at 
the  door  of  the  tavern,  sobbing  and  crying,  and 
pulling  him  by  the  sleeve.     But  he  replied : 
16 


242  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

"  No,  it  is  all  Don  Michele ;  he  is  determined  to 
ruin  me,  I  tell  you.  He  is  always  plotting  against 
me  with  Uncle  Santoro.  I  have  heard  them  my- 
self in  Pizzuti's  shop;  and  that  spy  said  to  him, 
'  And  if  I  come  back  to  your  daughter,  what  kind 
of  a  figure  shall  I  cut  ?'  And  Uncle  Santoro  an- 
swered, '  But  when  I  tell  you  that  the  whole  place 
will  by  that  time  be  dying  of  envy  of  you  ?'  " 

"  But  what  do  you  mean  to  do  ?"  asked  Mena, 
with  her  pale  face.  "  Think  of  our  mother,  'Ntoni, 
and  of  us  who  have  no  one  left  in  the  world!" 

"  Nothing !  I  mean  to  put  Santuzza  to  shame, 
and  him  too,  as  they  go  to  the  mass,  before  all  the 
world.  I  mean  to  tell  them  what  I  think  of  them, 
and  make  them  a  laughing-stock  for  everybody.  I 
fear  nobody  in  the  world.  And  the  druggist  himself 
shall  hear  me." 

In  short,  it  was  useless  for  Mena  to  weep  or  to 
beg.  He  went  on  saying  that  he  had  nothing  to 
lose,  and  the  others  should  look  after  themselves 
and  not  blame  him ;  that  he  was  tired  of  that  life, 
and  meant  to  end  it,  as  Don  Franco  said.  And  since 
he  was  not  kindly  received  at  the  tavern,  he  took 
to  lounging  about  the  piazza,  especially  on  Sun- 
days, and  sat  on  the  church-steps  to  see  what  sort 
of  a  face  those  shameless  wretches  would  wear, 
trying  to  deceive  not  only  the  world,  but  Our  Lord 
and  the  Madonna  under  their  very  eyes. 

Santuzza,  not  wishing  to  meet  'Ntoni,  went  to 
Aci  Castello  to  mass  early  in  the  morning,  not  to  be 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  243 

led  into  temptation.  'Ntoni  watched  the  Mangia- 
carubbe,  with  her  face  wrapped  in  her  mantle,  not 
looking  to  the  right  or  to  the  left,  now  she  had 
caught  a  husband.  Vespa,  all  over  flounces,  and 
with  a  very  big  rosary,  went  to  besiege  Heaven  that 
she  might  be  delivered  from  her  scourge  of  a  hus- 
band, and  'Ntoni  snarled  after  them  :  "  Now  that 
they  have  caught  husbands,  they  want  nothing 
more.  They've  somebody  to  see  that  they  have 
plenty  to  eat."  Uncle  Crucifix  had  lost  even  his 
devotional  habits  since  he  had  got  Vespa  on  his 
shoulders ;  he  kept  away  from  church,  to  be  free 
from  her  presence  at  least  for  so  long  a  time,  to 
the  great  peril  of  his  soul. 

"This  is  my  last  year !"  he  whined.  And  now 
he  was  always  running  after  Padron  'Ntoni  and 
the  others  who  were  badly  off.  "  This  year  I  shall 
have  hail  in  my  vineyard,  you'll  see;  I  shall  not 
have  a  drop  of  wine  !" 

"  You  know,  Uncle  Crucifix,"  replied  Padron 
'Ntoni,  uas  soon  as  you  like,  I  am  ready  to  go  to 
the  notary  for  that  affair  of  the  house,  and  I  have 
the  money  here." 

That  one  cared  for  nothing  but  his  house,  and 
other  people's  affairs  were  nothing  to  him. 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  of  the  notary,  Padron  'Ntoni. 
If  I  hear  any  one  speak  of  a  notary  I  am  reminded 
of  the  day  when  I  let  Vespa  drag  me  before  one. 
Cursed  be  that  day!" 

But  Cousin  Goosefoot,  who  smelled  a  bargain,  said 


244  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

to  him,  "  That  witch  of  a  Wasp,  after  your  death, 
may  be  capable  of  selling  the  house  by  the  med- 
lar for  next  to  nothing ;  isn't  it  better  that  you 
should  finish  up  your  own  affairs  while  you  can  ?" 
And  Uncle  Crucifix  would  reply:  "  Yes,  yes,  I'll  go 
to  the  notary ;  but  you  must  let  me  make  some 
profit  on  the  affair.  Look  how  many  losses  I  have 
had  !"  And  Goosefoot,  feigning  to  agree  with  him, 
would  add,  "  That  witch  of  a  wife  of  yours  must 
not  know  that  you  have  the  money,  or  she  might 
twist  your  neck  for  the  sake  of  spending  it  in  neck- 
laces and  new  gowns."  And  he  went  on  :  "  At 
least  the  Mangiacarubbe  does  not  throw  her  money 
away,  now  she  has  caught  a  husband.  Look  how 
she  comes  to  church  in  a  cotton  gown !" 

"  I  don't  care  for  the  Mangiacarubbe ;  but  I 
know  she  and  all  the  other  women  ought  to  be 
burned  alive.  They  are  only  put  in  the  world  for 
our  damnation.  Do  you  believe  that  she  doesn't 
spend  the  money  ?  That's  all  put  on  to  take  in 
Padron  Fortunate,  who  goes  about  declaring  that 
he'd  rather  marry  a  girl  himself  out  of  the  street 
than  let  his  money  go  to  that  beggar,  who  has 
stolen  his  son  from  him.  I'd  give  him  Vespa,  for 
my  part,  if  he  wanted  her!  They're  all  alike! 
And  woe  to  whoever  gets  one  for  his  misfortune  ! 
The  Lord  help  him  !  Look  at  Don  Michele,  who 
goes  up  and  down  the  black  street  after  Donna 
Rosolina !  What  does  he  need  more,  that  one  ? 
Respected,  well  paid,  fat,  and  comfortable  !  Well, 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  245 

he  goes  running  after  a  woman,  looking  for  trouble 
with  a  lantern,  for  the  sake  of  the  vicar's  few  soldi 
after  his  death !" 

"No,  he  doesn't  go  for  Donna  Rosolina,  no," 
said  Goosefoot,  winking  mysteriously.  "  Donna 
Rosolina  may  take  root  on  her  terrace  among  her 
tomatoes,  with  her  eyes  like  a  dead  fish's.  Don 
Michele  doesn't  care  for  the  vicar's  money.  I  know 
what  he  goes  to  the  black  street  for." 

"  Then,  what  will  you  take  for  the  house?"  asked 
Padron  'Ntoni,  returning  to  the  subject. 

"  We'll  see,  we'll  see  when  we  go  to  the  notary," 
replied  old  Crucifix.  "Now  let  me  listen  to  the 
blessed  mass;"  and  so  he  sent  him  off  for  that  time. 

"  Don  Michele  has  something  else  in  his  head," 
repeated  Goosefoot,  running  his  tongue  out  behind 
Padron  'Ntoni's  back,  and  making  a  sign  towards 
his  grandson,  who  was  leaning  against  the  wall, 
with  a  ragged  jacket  over  one  shoulder,  and  cast- 
ing furious  looks  at  Uncle  Santoro,  who  had  taken 
to  coming  to  mass  to  hold  out  his  hand  to  the  faith- 
ful in  the  intervals  of  muttered  Glorias  and  Ave 
Marias,  knowing  them  all  very  well  as  they  passed 
him  on  their  way  out,  saying  to  one,  "  The  Lord 
bless  you;"  to  another,  "God  give  you  health ;"  and 
as  Don  Michele  passed,  he  said  to  him, "  Go  to  her, 
she  is  waiting  for  you  in  the  garden.  Holy  Mary, 
pray  for  us  !  Lord  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner  !" 

When  Don  Michele  began  to  go  back  to  the  tav- 
ern people  said :  "  Look  if  the  cat  and  dog  haven't 


246  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

made  friends  !  There  must  have  been  some  reason 
for  their  quarrelling.  And  Master  Filippo  has  gone 
back  too.  He  seems  to  have  been  fonder  of  Don 
Michele  than  of  Santuzza !  Some  people  wouldn't 
care  to  be  alone,  even  in  Paradise." 

Then  'Ntoni  Malavoglia  was  furious,  finding  him- 
self hustled  out  of  the  tavern  worse  than  a  mangy 
dog,  without  even  a  penny  in  his  pocket  to  pay  to 
go  and  drink  in  spite  of  Don  Michele  and  his  mus- 
taches, and  sit  there  all  day  long  for  the  sake  of 
plaguing  them,  with  his  elbows  on  the  table.  In- 
stead of  which  he  was  obliged  to  spend  the  day  in 
the  street,  like  a  dog  with  his  tail  between  his  legs 
and  his  nose  to  the  ground,  muttering,  "  Blood  of 
Judas!  'one  day  there'll  be  an  upsetting  there,  that 
there  will." 

Rocco  Spatu  and  Cinghialenta,  who  always  had 
more  or  less  money,  laughed  in  his  face  from  the 
door  of  the  tavern,  pointing  their  fingers  at  him,  or 
came  out  to  talk  to  him  in  low  tones,  pulling  him 
by  the  arm  in  the  direction  of  the  downs,  or  whis- 
pering in  his  ear.  He  hesitated  always  about  giv- 
ing them  an  answer,  like  a  fool  as  he  was.  Then 
they  would  come  down  upon  him  both  at  once. 
"  You  deserve  to  die  of  hunger,  there  in  sight  of  the 
door,  and  to  have  us  sneering  at  you  worse  than 
Don  Michele  does,  you  faint-hearted  wretch,  you !" 

"  Blood  of  Judas !  don't  talk  like  that,"  cried 
'Ntoni,  shaking  his  fist  in  the  air;  uor  else  some 
day  something  new  will  happen,  that  there  will !" 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  247 

But  the  others  went  sneering  off  and  left  him, 
until  at  last  they  succeeded  in  putting  him  into  such 
a  fury  that  he  came  straight  into  the  middle  of  the 
tavern  among  them  all,  pale  as  a  corpse,  with  his 
hand  on  his  hip,  and  on  his  shoulder  his  old  worn 
jacket,  which  he  wore  as  proudly  as  if  it  had  been 
a  velvet  coat,  turning  his  blazing  eyes  about  the 
room,  looking  out  for  somebody.  Don  Michele, 
out  of  respect  for  his  own  uniform,  pretended  not 
to  see  him,  and  made  as  if  he  would  go  away ;  but 
'Ntoni,  seeing  that  Don  Michele  was  not  in  the 
humor  for  fighting,  became  outrageously  insolent, 
sneering  at  him  and  at  Santuzza,  and  spitting  out 
the  wine  which  he  drank,  swearing  that  it  was  poi- 
son, and  baptized  besides,  for  Santuzza  had  mixed 
it  with  water,  and  they  were  simply  fools  to  go  into 
such  a  place  as  that  to  throw  away  their  money; 
and  that  was  the  reason  why  he  had  left  off  com- 
ing there.  Santuzza,  touched  in  her  weakest  point, 
could  no  longer  command  her  temper,  and  flew  out 
at  him,  saying  that  he  didn't  come  because  they 
wouldn't  have  him,  that  they  were  tired  of  keeping 
him  for  charity,  and  they  had  had  to  use  the  broom- 
handle  to  him  before  he'd  go,  a  great  hungry 
dog !  And  'Ntoni  began  to  rage  and  storm,  roaring 
and  flinging  the  glasses  about,  which,  he  said,  they 
had  put  out  to  catch  that  other  great  codfish  in 
uniform,  but  he  would  bring  his  wine  out  at  his 
nose  for  him  ;  he  wasn't  afraid  of  anybody. 

Don  Michele,  white  with  rage,  with  his  cap  on 


248  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

one  side,  stammered,  "  This  will  end  badly,  will  end 
badly !"  while  Santuzza  rained  flasks  and  glasses 
upon  both  of  them.  At  last  they  flew  at  each  other 
with  their  fists,  until  they  both  rolled  on  the  floor 
like  two  dogs,  and  the  others  went  at  them  with 
kicks  and  thumps  trying  to  part  them,  which  at 
last  Peppi  Naso,  the  butcher,  succeeded  in  doing 
by  dint  of  lashing  them  with  the  leather  strap  which 
he  took  off  his  trousers,  which  took  the  skin  off 
wherever  it  touched. 

Don  Michele  brushed  off  his  uniform,  picked  up 
his  sabre,  which  he  had  lost  in  the  scuffle,  and  went 
out,  only  muttering  something  between  his  teeth, 
for  his  uniform's  sake.  But  'Ntoni  Malavoglia,  with 
the  blood  streaming  from  his  nose,  called  out  a  lot 
of  bad  names  after  him — rubbing  his  nose  with  his 
sleeve  meanwhile,  and  swearing  that  he  would  soon 
give  him  the  rest  of  it. 


XIV. 

'NTONI  MALAVOGLIA  did  meet  Don  Michele,  and 
"gave  him  his  change,"  and  a  very  ugly  business  it 
was.  It  was  by  night,  when  it  rained  in  torrents, 
and  so  dark  that  even  a  cat  could  have  seen  noth- 
ing at  the  turn  on  the  down  which  leads  to  the 
Rotolo,  whence  those  boats  put  out  so  quietly,  mak- 
ing believe  to  be  fishing  for  cod  at  midnight,  and 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  249 

where  'Ntoni  and  Rocco  Spatu,  and  Cinghialenta 
and  other  good-for-nothing  fellows  well  known  to 
the  coast-guard,  used  to  hang  about  with  pipes  in 
their  mouths — the  guards  knew  those  pipes  well, 
and  could  distinguish  them  perfectly  one  from  an- 
other as  they  moved  about  among  the  rocks  where 
they  lay  hidden  with  their  guns  in  their  hands. 

"  Cousin  Mena,"  said  Don  Michele,  passing  once 
more  down  the  black  street — "  Cousin  Mena,  tell 
your  brother  not  to  go  to  the  Rotolo  of  nights  with 
Cinghialenta  and  Rocco  Spatu." 

But  'Ntoni  would  not  listen,  for  "  the  empty  stom- 
ach has  no  ears  ";  and  he  no  longer  feared  Don 
Michele  since  he  had  rolled  over  with  him  hand  to 
hand  on  the  floor  of  the  tavern,  and  he  had  sworn, 
too,  to  "give  him  the  rest  of  it,"  and  he  would  give 
him  the  rest  of  it  whenever  he  met  him ;  and  he 
wasn't  going  to  pass  for  a  coward  in  the  eyes  of 
Santuzza  and  the  rest  who  had  been  present  when 
he  threatened  him.  "  I  said  I'd  give  him  the  rest 
when  I  met  him  next,  and  so  I  will ;  and  if  he  chooses 
to  meet  me  at  the  Rotolo,  I'll  meet  him  at  the  Ro- 
tolo !"  he  repeated  to  his  companions,  who  had  also 
brought  with  them  the  son  of  La  Locca.  They 
had  passed  the  evening  at  the  tavern  drinking  and 
roaring,  for  a  tavern  is  like  a  free  port,  and  no  one 
can  be  sent  out  of  it  as  long  as  they  have  money 
to  pay  their  score  and  to  rattle  in  their  pockets. 
Don  Michele  had  gone  by  on  his  rounds,  but  Rocco 
Spatu,  who  knew  the  law,  said,  spitting  and  lean- 


250  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

ing  against  the  wall  the  better  to  balance  himself, 
that  as  long  as  the  lamp  at  the  door  was  lighted 
they  could  not  turn  them  out.  "We  have  a  right 
to  stay  so  long  !"  he  repeated.  'Ntoni  Malavoglia 
also  enjoyed  keeping  Santuzza  from  going  to  bed, 
as  she  sat  behind  her  glasses  yawning  and  dozing. 
In  the  mean  time  Uncle  Santoro,  feeling  his  way 
about  with  his  hands,  had  put  the  lamp  out  and 
shut  the  door. 

"  Now  be  off !"  said  Santuzza,  "  I  don't  choose 
to  be  fined,  for  your  sake,  for  keeping  my  door 
open  at  this  hour." 

"Who'll  fine  you?  That  spy  Don  Michele  ? 
Let  him  come  here,  and  I'll  pay  him  his  fine ! 
Tell  him  he'll  find  'Ntoni  Malavoglia  here,  by  Our 
Lady's  blood." 

Meanwhile  the  Santuzza  had  taken  him  by  the 
shoulders  and  put  him  out  of  the  door :  "  Go  and 
tell  him  yourself,  and  get  into  scrapes  somewhere 
else.  I  don't  mean  to  get  into  trouble  with  the 
police  for  love  of  your  bright  eyes." 

'Ntoni,  finding  himself  in  the  street  in  this  un- 
ceremonious fashion,  pulled  out  a  long  knife,  and 
swore  that  he  would  stab  both  Santuzza  and  Don 
Michele.  Cinghialenta  was  the  only  one  who  had 
his  senses,  and  he  pulled  him  by  the  coat,  saying : 
"  Leave  them  alone  now !  Have  you  forgotten 
what  we  have  to  do  to-night  ?" 

La  Locca's  son  felt  greatly  inclined  to  cry. 

"  He's  drunk,"  observed  Spatu,  standing  under 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  251 

the  rain-pipe.  "  Bring  him  here  under  the  pipe;  it 
will  do  him  good." 

'Ntoni,  quieted  a  little  by  the  drenching  he  got 
from  the  rain-pipe,  let  himself  be  drawn  along  by 
Cinghialenta,  scolding  all  the  while,  swearing  that 
as  sure  as  he  met  Don  Michele  he'd  give  him  what 
he  had  promised  him.  All  of  a  sudden  he  found 
himself  face  to  face  with  Don  Michele  who  was 
also  prowling  in  the  vicinity,  with  his  pistols  at  his 
belt  and  his  trousers  thrust  into  his  boots.  'Ntoni 
became  quite  calm  all  of  a  sudden,  and  they  all 
stole  off  silently  in  the  direction  of  Vanni  Pizzuti's 
shop.  When  they  reached  the  door,  now  that  Don 
Michele  was  no  longer  near  them,  'Ntoni  insisted 
that  they  should  stop  and  listen  to  what  he  had 
to  say. 

"Did  you  see  where  Don  Michele  was  going? 
and  Santuzza  said  she  was  sleepy !" 

"  Leave  Don  Michele  alone,  can't  you  ?"  said  Cin- 
ghialenta; "that  way  he  won't  interfere  with  us." 

"  You're  all  a  lot  of  cowards,"  said  'Ntoni. 
"  You're  afraid  of  Don  Michele." 

"  To-night  you're  drunk,"  said  Cinghialenta,  "but 
I'll  show  you  whether  I'm  afraid  of  Don  Michele. 
Now  that  I've  told  my  uncle,  I  don't  mean  to  have 
anybody  coming  bothering  after  me,  finding  out 
how  I  earn  my  bread." 

Then  they  began  to  talk  under  their  breath, 
drawn  up  against  the  wall,  while  the  noise  of  the 
rain  drowned  their  voices.  Suddenly  the  clock 


252  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

struck,  and  they  all  stood  silent,  counting  the 
strokes. 

"Let's  go  into  Cousin  Pizzuti's,"  said  Cinghia- 
lenta.  "  He  can  keep  his  door  open  as  late  as  he 
likes,  and  doesn't  need  to  have  a  light." 

"  It's  dark,  I  can't  see,"  said  La  Locca's  son. 

"  We  ought  to  take  something  to  drink,"  said  Roc- 
co  Spatu,"  or  we  shall  break  our  noses  on  the  rocks." 

Cinghialenta  growled  :  "As  if  we  were  just  out 
for  our  pleasure!  Now  you'll  be  wanting  Master 
Vanni  to  give  you  a  lemonade." 

"  I  have  no  need  of  lemonade,"  said  'Ntoni. 
"  You'll  see  when  I  get  to  work  if  I  can't  manage 
as  well  as  any  of  you." 

Cousin  Pizzuti  didn't  want  to  open  the  door  at 
that  hour,  and  replied  that  he  had  gone  to  bed  ;  but 
as  they  wouldn't  leave  off  knocking,  and  threatened 
to  wake  up  the  whole  place  and  bring  the  guards 
into  the  affair,  he  consented  to  get  up,  and  opened 
the  door,  in  his  drawers. 

"Are  you  mad,  to  knock  in  that  way  ?"  he  ex- 
claimed. "  I  saw  Don  Michele  pass  just  now." 

"Yes;  we  saw  him  too." 

"  Do  you  know  where  he  came  from  ?"  asked 
Pizzuti,  looking  sharply  at  him. 

'Ntoni  shrugged  his  shoulders  ;  and  Vanni,  as  he 
stood  out  of  the  way  to  let  them  pass,  winked  to 
Rocco  and  Cinghialenta.  "  He's  been  at  the  Mala- 
voglia's,"  he  whispered.  "  I  saw  him  come  out." 

"  Much  good  may  it  do  him  !"  answered  Cinghia- 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  253 

lenta ;  "  but  'Ntoni  ought  to  tell  his  sister  to  keep 
him  when  we  have  anything  to  do." 

"What  do  you  want  of  me?"  said  'Ntoni,  thickly. 

"  Nothing  to-night.  Never  mind.  To-night  we 
can  do  nothing." 

"If  we  can  do  nothing  to-night,  why  did  you 
bring  me  away  from  the  tavern  ?"  said  Rocco  Spatu. 
"  I'm  wet  through." 

"  It  was  something  else  that  we  were  speaking 
of;"  and  Vanni  continued:  "Yes,  the  man  has 
come  from  town,  and  he  says  the  goods  are  there, 
but  it  will  be  no  joke  trying  to  land  them  in  such 
weather  as  this." 

"  So  much  the  better;  no  one  will  be  looking  out 
for  us." 

"  Yes,  but  the  guards  have  sharp  ears ,  and  mind 
you,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  heard  some  one  prowling 
about  just  now,  and  trying  to  look  into  the  shop." 

A  moment's  silence  ensued,  and  Vanni,  to  put 
an  end  to  it,  brought  out  three  glasses  and  filled 
them  with  bitters. 

"  I  don't  care  about  the  guard !"  cried  Rocco 
Spatu,  after  he  had  drunk.  "  So  much  the  worse 
for  them  if  they  meddle  in  my  business.  I've  got 
a  little  knife  here  that  is  better  than  all  their  pis- 
tols, and  makes  no  noise,  either." 

"  We.  earn  our  bread  the  best  way  we  can,"  said 
Cinghialenta,  "  and  don't  want  to  do  anybody  harm. 
Isn't  one  to  get  one's  goods  on  shore  where  one 
likes  ?" 


254  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

"  They  go  swaggering  about,  a  lot  of  thieves, 
making  us  pay  double  for  every  handkerchief  that 
we  want  to  land,  and  nobody  shoots  them,"  added 
'Ntoni  Malavoglia.  "  Do  you  know  what  Don 
Giammaria  said  ?  That  to  rob  thieves  was  not 
stealing.  And  the  worst  of  thieves  are  those  fel- 
lows in  uniform,  who  eat  us  up  alive." 

"I'll  mash  them  into  pulp!"  concluded  Rocco 
Spatu,  with  his  eyes  shining  like  a  cat's. 

But  this  conversation  did  not  please  La  Locca's 
son  at  all,  and  he  set  his  glass  clown  again  without 
drinking,  white  as  a  corpse. 

"Are  you  drunk  already?"  asked  Cinghialenta. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  did  not  drink." 

"  Come  into  the  open  air ;  it  will  do  us  all  good. 
Good-night." 

"One  moment,"  cried  Pizzuti,  with  the  door  in 
his  hand.  "I  don't  mean  for  the  money  for  the 
bitters ;  that  I  have  given  you  freely,  because  you 
are  my  friends;  but  listen,  between  ourselves,  eh? 
If  you  are  successful,  mind,  I  am  here,  and  my 
house.  You  know  I've  a  room  at  the  back,  big 
enough  to  hold  a  ship-load  of  goods,  and  nobody 
likely  to  think  of  it,  for  Don  Michele  and  his 
guards  are  hand-and-glove  with  me.  I  don't  trust 
Cousin  Goosefoot;  the  last  time  he  threw  me  over, 
and  put  everything  into  Don  Silvestro's  house. 
Don  Silvestro  is  never  contented  with  a  reasonable 
profit,  but  asks  an  awful  price,  on  the  ground  that 
he  risks  his  place ;  but  I  have  no  such  motive,  and 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  255 

I  ask  no  more  than  is  reasonable.  And  I  never 
refused  Goosefoot  his  percentage,  either,  and  give 
him  his  drinks  free,  and  shave  him  for  nothing. 
But,  the  devil  take  him !  if  he  plays  me  such  a  trick 
again  I'll  show  him  that  I  am  not  to  be  fooled  in 
that  way.  I'll  go  to  Don  Michele  and  blow  the 
whole  business." 

"  How  it  rains !"  said  Spatu.  "  Isn't  it  going  to 
leave  off  to-night?" 

"  With  this  weather  there'll  be  no  one  at  the  Ro- 
tolo,"  said  La  Locca's  son.  "  Wouldn't  it  be  better 
to  go  home  ?" 

'Ntoni,  Rocco,  and  Cinghialenta,  who  stood  on 
the  door-step  listening  in  silence  to  the  rain,  which 
hissed  like  fish  in  the  frying-pan,  stopped  a  mo- 
ment, looking  into  the  darkness. 

"  Be  still,  you  fool !"  cried  Cinghialenta,  and 
Vanni  Pizzuti  closed  the  door  softly,  after  adding, 
in  an  undertone : 

"  Listen.  If  anything  happens,  you  did  not  see 
me  this  evening.  The  bitters  I  gave  you  out  of 
good-will,  but  you  haven't  been  in  my  house. 
Don't  betray  me ;  I  am  alone  in  the  world." 

The  others  went  off  surlily,  close  to  the  wall,  in 
the  rain.  "  And  that  one,  too !"  muttered  Cinghia- 
lenta. "And  he's  to  get  off  because  he  has  no- 
body in  the  world,  and  abuses  Goosefoot.  At  least 
Goosefoot  has  a  wife.  And  I  have  a  wife,  too. 
But  the  balls  are  good  enough  for  me." 

Just  then  they  passed,  very  softly,  before  Cousin 


256  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

Anna's  closed  door,  and  Rocco  Spatu  murmured 
that  he  had  his  mother,  too,  who  was  at  that  mo- 
ment fast  asleep,  luckily  for  her.  "Whoever  can 
stay  between  the  sheets  in  this  weather  isn't  likely 
to  be  about,  certainly,"  concluded  Cousin  Cinghia- 
lenta. 

'Ntoni  signed  to  them  to  be  quiet,  and  to  turn 
down  by  the  alley,  so  as  not  to  pass  before  his 
own  door,  where  Mena  or  his  grandfather  might 
be  watching  for  him,  and  might  hear  them. 

Mena  was,  in  truth,  watching  for  her  brother  be- 
hind the  door,  with  her  rosary  in  her  hand;  and 
Lia,  too,  without  saying  why  she  was  there,  but 
pale  as  the  dead.  And  better  would  it  have  been 
for  them  all  if  'Ntoni  had  passed  by  the  black 
street,  instead  of  going  round  by  the  alley.  Don 
Michele  had  really  been  there  a  little  after  sunset, 
and  had  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Who  comes  at  this  hour  ?"  said  Lia,  who  was 
hemming  on  the  sly  a  certain  silk  kerchief  which 
Don  Michele  had  at  last  succeeded  in  inducing  her 
to  accept. 

"  It  is  I,  Don  Michele.  Open  the  door  ;  I  must 
speak  to  you ;  it  is  most  important." 

"  I  can't  open  the  door.  They  are  all  in  bed 
but  my  sister,  who  is  watching  for  my  brother 
'Ntoni." 

"  If  your  sister  does  hear  you  open  the  door  it 
is  no  matter.  It  is  precisely  of  'Ntoni  I  wish  to 
speak,  and  it  is  most  important.  I  don't  want  your 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  257 

brother  to  go  to  the  galleys.  But  open  the  door ; 
if  they  see  me  here  I  shall  lose  my  place." 

"  O  blessed  Virgin  !"  cried  the  girl.  "  O  blessed 
Virgin  Mary !" 

"Lock  him  into  the  house  to-night  when  he 
comes  back.  But  don't  tell  him  I  told  you  to. 
Tell  him  he  must  not  go  out.  He  must  not !" 

"  O  Virgin  Mary  !  O  blessed  Mary  !"  repeated 
Lia,  with  folded  hands. 

"  He  is  at  the  tavern  now,  but  he  must  pass  this 
way.  Wait  for  him  at  the  door,  or  it  will  be  the 
worse  for  him." 

Lia  wept  silently,  lest  her  sister  should  hear  her, 
with  her  face  hidden  in  her  hands,  and  Don  Michele 
watched  her,  with  his  pistols  in  his  belt,  and  his 
trousers  thrust  into  his  boots. 

"  There  is  no  one  who  weeps  for  me  or  watches 
for  me  this  night,  Cousin  Lia,  but  I,  too,  am  in  dan- 
ger, like  your  brother;  and  if  any  misfortune  should 
happen  to  me,  think  how  I  came  to-night  to  warn 
you,  and  how  I  have  risked  my  bread  for  you  more 
than  once."" 

Then  Lia  lifted  up  her  face,  and  looked  at  Don 
Michele  with  her  large  tearful  eyes.  "  God  reward 
you  for  your  charity,  Don  Michele !" 

"  I  haven't  done  it  for  reward,  Cousin  Lia ;  I  have 
done  it  for  you,  and  for  the  love  I  bear  to  you." 

"  Now  go,  for  they  are  all  asleep.  Go,  for  the 
love  of  God,  Don  Michele  !" 

And  Don  Michele  went,  and  she  stayed  by  the 


258  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

door,  weeping  and  praying  that  God  would  send 
her  brother  that  way.  But  the  Lord  did  not  send 
him  that  way.  All  four  of  them — 'Ntoni,  Cinghia- 
lenta,  Rocco  Spatu,  and  the  son  of  La  Locca — went 
softly  along  the  wall  of  the  alley;  and  when  they 
came  out  upon  the  down  they  took  off  their  shoes 
and  carried  them  in  their  hands,  and  stood  still  to 
listen. 

"  I  hear  nothing,"  said  Cinghialenta. 

The  rain  continued  to  fall,  and  from  the  top  of 
the  cliff  nothing  could  be  heard  save  the  moaning 
of  the  sea  below. 

"  One  can't  even  see  to  swear,"  said  Rocco  Spatu. 
"  How  will  they  manage  to  climb  the  cliff  in  this 
darkness  ?" 

"  They  all  know  the  coast,  foot  by  foot,  with 
their  eyes  shut.  They  are  old  hands,"  replied  Cin- 
ghialenta. 

"  But  I  hear  nothing,"  observed  'Ntoni. 

"  It's  a  fact,  we  can  hear  nothing,"  said  Cinghia- 
lenta, "but  they  must  have  been  there  below  for 
some  time." 

"  Then  we  had  better  go  home,"  said  the  son  of 
La  Locca. 

"Since  you've  eaten  and  drunk,  you  think  of 
nothing  but  getting  home  again,  but  if  you  don't 
be  quiet  I'll  kick  you  into  the  sea,"  said  Cinghia- 
lenta to  him. 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  Rocco,  "  that  I  find  it  a  bore 
to  spend  the  night  here  doing  nothing.  Now  we 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  259 

will  try  if  they  are  here  or  not."  And  he  began  to 
hoot  like  an  owl. 

"  If  Don  Michele's  guard  hears  that  they  will  be 
down  on  us  directly,  for  on  these  wet  nights  the 
owls  don't  fly." 

"  Then  we  had  better  go,"  whined  La  Locca's 
son,  but  nobody  answered  him. 

All  four  looked  in  each  other's  faces  though  they 
could  see  nothing,  and  thought  of  what  Padron 
'Ntoni's  'Ntoni  had  just  said. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?"  asked  La  Locca's  son. 

"  Let's  go  down  to  the  road ;  if  they  are  not 
there  we  may  be  sure  they  have  not  come,"  sug- 
gested Cinghialenta. 

'Ntoni,  while  they  were  climbing  down,  said, 
"Goosefoot  is  capable  of  selling  the  lot  of  us  for 
a  glass  of  wine." 

"  Now  you  haven't  the  glass  before  you,  you're 
afraid,"  said  Cinghialenta. 

"  Come  on!  the  devil  take  you  !  I'll  show  wheth- 
er I'm  afraid." 

While  they  were  feeling  their  way  cautiously 
down,  very  slowly,  for  fear  of  breaking  their  necks 
in  the  dark,  Spatu  observed : 

"  At  this  moment  Vanni  Pizzuti  is  safe  in  bed, 
and  he  complained  of  Goosefoot  for  getting  his  per- 
centage for  nothing." 

"Well,"  said  Cinghialenta,  "if  you  don't  want  to 
risk  your  lives,  stay  at  home  and  go  to  bed." 

'Ntoni,  reaching   down  with  his  hands  to   feel 


260  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

where  he  should  set  his  foot,  could  not  help  think- 
ing that  Master  Cinghialenta  would  have  done  bet- 
ter not  to  say  that,  because  it  brought  to  each  the 
image  of  his  house,  and  his  bed,  and  Mena  doz- 
ing behind  the  door.  That  big  tipsy  brute,  Rocco 
Spatu,  said  at  last,  "  Our  lives  are  not  worth  a 
copper." 

"  Who  goes  there  ?"  they  heard  some  one  call 
out,  all  at  once,  behind  the  wall  of  the  high-road. 
"  Stop  !  stop  !  all  of  you  !" 

"  Treachery !  treachery !"  they  began  to  cry  out, 
rushing  off  over  the  cliffs  without  heeding  where 
they  went. 

But  'Ntoni,  who  had  already  climbed  over  the 
wall,  found  himself  face  to  face  with  Don  Michele, 
who  had  his  pistol  in  his  hand. 

"  Blood  of  Our  Lady  !"  cried  Malavoglia,  pulling 
out  his  knife.  "  I'll  show  you  whether  I'm  afraid 
of  your  pistol !" 

Don  Michele's  pistol  went  off  in  the  air,  but  he 
himself  fell  like  a  bull,  stabbed  in  the  chest.  'Ntoni 
tried  to  escape,  leaping  from  rock  to  rock  like  a 
goat,  but  the  guards  caught  up  with  him,  while  the 
balls  rattled  about  like  hail,  and  threw  him  on  the 
ground. 

"  Now  what  will  become  of  my  mother  ?"  whined 
La  Locca's  son,  while  they  tied  him  up  like  a 
trussed  chicken. 

"Don't  pull  so  tight!"  shouted  'Ntoni.  "Don't 
you  see  I  can't  move  ?" 


THE   HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  261 

"Go  on,  go  on,  Malavoglia;  your  hash  is  settled 
once  for  all,"  they  answered,  driving  him  before 
them  with  the  butts  of  their  muskets. 

While  they  led  him  up  to  the  barracks  tied  up 
like  Our  Lord  himself,  and  worse,  and  carried  Don 
Michele  too,  on  their  shoulders,  he  looked  here  and 
there  for  Rocco  Spatu  and  Cinghialenta.  "  They 
have  got  off !"  he  said  to  himself.  "  They  have 
nothing  more  to  dread,  but  are  as  safe  as  Vanni 
Pizzuti  and  Goosefoot  are,  between  their  sheets. 
Only  at  my  house  no  one  will  sleep,  now  they  have 
heard  the  shots." 

In  fact,  those  poor  things  did  not  sleep,  but 
stood  at  the  door  and  watched  in  the  rain,  as  if 
their  hearts  had  told  them  what  had  happened ; 
while  the  neighbors,  hearing  the  shots,  turned 
sleepily  over  in  their  beds  and  muttered,  yawning, 
"We  shall  know  to-morrow  what  has  happened." 

Very  late  when  the  day  was  breaking,  a  crowd 
gathered  in  front  of  Vanni  PizzutTs  shop,  where  the 
light  was  burning  and  there  was  a  great  chattering. 

"  They  have  caught  the  smuggled  goods  and  the 
smugglers  too,"  recounted  Pizzuti,  "  and  Don  Mi- 
chele has  been  stabbed." 

People  looked  at  the  Malavoglia' s  door,  and  point- 
ed with  their  fingers.  At  last  came  their  cousin 
Anna,  with  her  hair  loose,  white  as  a  sheet,  and 
knew  not  what  to  say.  Padron  'Ntoni,  as  if  he 
knew  what  was  coming,  asked,  "  'Ntoni,  where's 
'Ntoni  ?" 


262  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

"He's  been -caught  smuggling;  he  was  arrested 
last  night  with  La  Locca's  son,"  replied  poor  Cous- 
in Anna,  who  had  fairly  lost  her  head.  "And  they 
have  killed  Don  Michele." 

"  Holy  Mother !"  cried  the  old  man,  with  his 
hands  to  his  head ;  and  Lia,  too,  was  tearing  her 
hair.  Paclron  'Ntoni,  holding  his  head  with  both 
hands,  went  on  repeating,  "Ah,  Mother  !  Ah,  Moth- 
er, Mother  !" 

Later  on  Goosefoot  came,  with  a  face  full  of 
trouble,  smiting  his  forehead.  "  Oh,  Padron  'Ntoni, 
have  you  heard  ?  What  a  misfortune  !  I  felt  like 
a  wet  rag  when  I  heard  it." 

Cousin  Grace,  his  wife,  really  cried,  poor  woman, 
for  her  heart  ached  to  see  how  misfortunes  rained 
upon  those  poor  Malavoglia. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?"  asked  her  husband, 
under  his  breath,  drawing  her  away  from  the  win- 
dow. "  It  is  no  business  of  yours.  Now  it  isn't 
safe  to  come  to  this  house;  one  might  get  mixed  up 
in  some  scrape  with  the  police." 

For  which  reason  nobody  came  near  the  Mala- 
voglia's  door.  Only  Nunziata,  as  soon  as  she  heard 
of  their  trouble,  had  confided  the  little  ones  to  their 
eldest  brother,  and  her  house  door  to  her  next 
neighbor,  and  went  off  to  her  friend  Mena  to  weep 
with  her ;  but  then  she  was  still  such  a  child !  The 
others  stood  afar  off  in  the  street  staring,  or  went 
to  the  barracks,  crowding  like  flies,  to  see  how  Pa- 
dron 'Ntoni's  'Ntoni  looked  behind  the  grating, 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE   MEDLAR-TREE.  263 

after  having  stabbed  Don  Michele;  or  else  they 
filled  Pizzuti's  shop,  where  he  sold  bitters,  and  was 
always  shaving  somebody,  while  he  told  the  whole 
story  of  the  night  before,  word  for  word. 

"  The  fools  !"  cried  the  druggist,  "  the  fools,  to  let 
themselves  be  taken." 

"  It  will  be  an  ugly  business  for  them,"  added 
Don  Silvestro;  "the  razor  itself  couldn't  save  them 
from  the  galleys." 

And  Don  Giammaria  went  up  close  to  him  and 
said  under  his  nose : 

"  Everybody  that  ought  to  be  at  the  galleys 
doesn't  go  there !" 

"  By  no  means  everybody,"  answered  Don  Sil- 
vestro,  turning  reel  with  fury. 

"  Nowadays,"  said  Padron  Cipolla,  yellow  with 
bile,  "  the  real  thieves  rob  one  of  one's  goods  at 
noonday  and  in  the  middle  of  the  piazza.  They 
thrust  themselves  into  one's  house  by  force,  but 
they  break  open  neither  doors  nor  windows." 

"Just  as  'Ntoni  Malavoglia  wanted  to  do  in  my 
house,"  added  La  Zuppidda,  sitting  down  on  the 
wall  with  her  distaff  to  spin  hemp. 

"What  I  always  said  to  you,  peace  of  the  an- 
gels !"  said  her  husband. 

"  You  hold  your  tongue,  you  know  nothing  about 
it !  Just  think  what  a  day  this  would  have  been 
for  my  daughter  Barbara  if  I  hadn't  looked  out  for 
her !" 

Her  daughter  Barbara  stood  at  the  window  to 


264  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

see  how  Padron  'Ntoni's  'Ntoni  looked  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  police  when  they  carried  him  to  town. 

"  He'll  never  get  out,"  they  all  said.  "  Do  you 
know  what  there  is  written  on  the  prison  at  Paler- 
mo ? '  Do  what  you  will,  here  you'll  come  at  last,'  and 
"As  you  make  your  bed,  you  must  lie  down.'  Poor 
devils !" 

"  Good  people  don't  get  into  such  scrapes," 
screamed  Vespa.  "  Evil  comes  to  those  who  go  to 
seek  it.  Look  at  the  people  who  take  to  that  trade 
— always  some  scamp  like  La  Locca's  son  or  Mala- 
voglia,  who  won't  do  any  honest  work."  And  they 
all  said  yes,  that  if  any  one  had  such  a  son  as  that 
it  was  better  that  the  house  should  fall  on  him. 
Only  La  Locca  went  in  search  of  her  son,  and  stood 
screaming  in  front  of  the  barracks  of  the  guards, 
saying  that  she  would  have  him,  and  not  listening 
to  reason ;  and  when  she  went  off  to  plague  her 
brother  Dumb-bell,  and  planted  herself  on  the  steps 
of  his  house,  for  hours  at  a  time,  with  her  white 
hair  streaming  in  the  wind,  Uncle  Crucifix  only  an- 
swered her :  "  I  have  the  galleys  at  home  here  !  I 
wish  I  were  in  your  son's  place !  What  do  you 
come  to  me  for  ?  And  he  didn't  give  you  bread  to 
eat  either." 

"La  Locca  will  gain  by  it,"  said  Don  Silvestro; 
"  now  that  she  has  no  one  to  work  for  her,  they  will 
take  her  in  at  the  poor-house,  and  she  will  be  well 
fed  every  day  in  the  week.  If  not,  she  will  be  left 
to  the  charity  of  the  commune." 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  265 

And  as  they  wound  up  by  saying,  "  Who  sows  the 
wind  will  reap  the  whirlwind,"  Padron  Fortunate 
added :  "And  it  is  a  good  thing  for  Padron  ''Ntoni 
too.  Do  you  think  that  good-for-nothing  grandson 
of  his  did  not  cost  him  a  lot  of  money  ?  I  know 
what  it  is  to  have  a  son  like  that.  Now  the  King 
must  maintain  him." 

But  Padron  'Ntoni,  instead  of  thinking  of  saving 
those  soldi,  now  that  his  grandson  was  no  longer 
likely  to  spend  them  for  him,  kept  on  flinging  them 
after  him,  with  lawyers  and  notaries  and  the  rest  of 
it — those  soldi  which  had  cost  so  much  labor,  and 
had  been  destined  for  the  house  by  the  medlar-tree. 

"  Now  we  do  not  need  the  house  nor  anything 
else,"  said  he,  with  a  face  as  pale  as  'Ntoni's  own 
when  they  had  taken  him  away  to  town,  with  his 
hands  tied,  and  under  his  arm  the  little  bundle  of 
shirts  which  Mena  had  brought  to  him  with  so 
many  tears  at  night  when  no  one  saw  her.  The 
whole  town  went  to  see  him  go  in  the  middle  of  the 
police.  His  grandfather  had  gone  off  to  the  advo- 
cate— the  one  who  talked  so  much — for  since  he 
had  seen  Don  Michele,  also,  pass  by  in  the  car- 
riage on  his  way  to  the  hospital,  as  yellow  as  a 
guinea,  and  with  his  uniform  unbuttoned,  he  was 
frightened,  poor  old  man,  and  did  not  stop  to  find 
fault  with  the  lawyer's  chatter  as  long  as  he  would 
promise  to  untie  his  grandson's  hands  and  let  him 
come  home  again ;  for  it  seemed  to  him  that  after 
this  earthquake  'Ntoni  would  come  home  again,  and 


266  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

stay  with  them  always,  as  he  had  done  when  he  was 
a  child. 

Don  Silvestro  had  done  him  the  kindness  to  go 
with  him  to  the  lawyer,  because,  he  said,  that 
when  such  a  misfortune  as  had  happened  to  the 
Malavoglia  happened  to  any  Christian,  one  should 
aid  one's  neighbor  with  hands,  and  feet  too,  even 
if  it  were  a  wretch  fit  only  for  the  galleys,  and 
do  one's  best  to  take  him  out  of  the  hands  of  jus- 
tice, for  that  was  why  we  were  Christians,  that  we 
should  help  our  neighbors  when  they  need  it.  The 
advocate,  when  he  had  heard  the  story,  and  it  had 
been  explained  to  him  by  Don  Silvestro,  said  that 
it  was  a  very  good  case,  "  a  case  for  the  galleys  cer- 
tainly " — and  he  rubbed  his  hands — "  if  they  hadn't 
come  to  him." 

Padron  'Ntoni  turned  as  white  as  a  sheet  when 
he  heard  of  the  galleys,  but  the  advocate  clapped 
him  on  the  shoulder  and  told  him  not  to  be  fright- 
ened, that  he  was  no  lawyer  if  he  couldn't  get  him 
off  with  four  or  five  years'  imprisonment. 

"  What  did  the  advocate  say  ?"  asked  Mena.  as 
she  saw  her  grandfather  return  with  that  pale  face, 
and  began  to  cry  before  she  could  hear  the  answer. 

The  old  man  walked  up  and  down  the  house  like 
a  madman,  saying,  "Ah,  why  did  we  not  all  die  first  ?" 
Lia,  white  as  her  smock,  looked  from  one  to  the 
other  with  wide  dry  eyes,  unable  to  speak  a  word. 

A  little  while  after  came  the  summonses  as  wit- 
nesses to  Barbara  Zuppidda  and  Grazia  Goosefoot 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  267 

and  Don  Franco,  the  druggist,  and  all  those  who 
were  wont  to  stand  chattering  in  his  shop  and  in 
that  of  Vanni  Pizzuti,  the  barber;  so  that  the  whole 
place  was  upset  by  them,  and  the  people  crowded 
the  piazza,  with  the  stamped  papers  in  their  hands, 
and  swore  that  they  knew  nothing  about  it,  as  true 
as  God  was  in  heaven,  because  they  did  not  want  to 
get  mixed  up  with  the  tribunals.  Cursed  be  'Ntoni 
and  all  the  Malavoglia,  who  pulled  them  by  the  hair 
into  their  scrapes.  The  Zuppidda  screamed  as  if 
she  had  been  possessed.  "  I  know  nothing  about 
it ;  at  the  Ave  Maria  I  shut  myself  into  my  house, 
and  I  am  not  like  those  who  go  wandering  about 
after  such  work  as  we  know  of,  or  who  stand  at  the 
doors  to  talk  with  spies." 

"  Beware  of  the  Government,"  added  Don  Franco. 
"  They  know  that  I  am  a  republican,  and  they  would 
be  very  glad  to  get  a  chance  to  sweep  me  off  the 
face  of  the  earth." 

Everybody  beat  their  brains  to  find  out  what  the 
Zuppidda  and  Cousin  Grace  and  the  rest  of  them 
could  have  to  say  as  witnesses  on  the  trial,  for  they 
had  seen  nothing,  and  had  only  heard  the  shots 
when  they  were  in  bed,  between  sleeping  and  wak- 
ing. But  Don  Silvestro  rubbed  his  hands  like  the 
lawyer,  and  said  that  he  knew  because  he  had 
pointed  them  out  to  the  lawyer,  and  that  it  was 
much  better  for  the  lawyer  that  he  had.  Every 
time  that  the  lawyer  went  to  talk  with  'Ntoni  Mala- 
voglia Don  Silvestro  went  with  him  to  the  prison 


268  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

if  he  had  nothing  else  to  do;  and  nobody  went  at 
that  time  to  the  Council,  and  the  olives  were  gath- 
ered. Padron  'Ntoni  had  also  tried  to  go  two  or 
three  times,  but  whenever  he  got  in  front  of  those 
barred  windows  and  the  soldiers  who  were  on  guard 
before  them,  he  turned  sick  and  faint,  and  stayed 
waiting  for  them  outside,  sitting  on  the  pavement 
among  the  people  who  sold  chestnuts  and  Indian 
figs ;  it  did  not  seem  possible  to  him  that  his  'Ntoni 
could  really  be  there  behind  those  grated  windows, 
with  the  soldiers  guarding  him.  The  lawyer  came 
back  from  talking  with  'Ntoni,  fresh  as  a  rose,  rub- 
bing his  hands,  and  saying  that  his  grandson  was 
quite  well,  indeed  that  he  was  growing  fat.  Then 
it  seemed  to  the  poor  old  man  that  his  grandson 
was  with  the  soldiers. 

"  Why  don't  they  let  him  go  ?"  he  asked  over 
and  over  again,  like  a  parrot  or  like  a  child,  and 
kept  on  asking,  too,  if  his  hands  were  always  tied. 

"Leave  him  where  he  is,"  said  Doctor  Scipione. 
"  In  these  cases  it  is  better  to  let  some  time  pass 
first.  Meanwhile  he  wants  for  nothing,  as  I  told 
you,  and  is  growing  quite  fat.  Things  are  going 
very  well.  Don  Michele  has  nearly  recovered  from 
his  wound,  and  that  also  is  a  very  good  thing  for  us. 
Go  back  to  your  boat,  I  tell  you;  this  is  my  affair." 

"But  I  can't  go  back  to  the  boat,  now  'Ntoni  is 
in  prison — I  can't  go  back !  Everybody  looks  at 
me  when  I  pass,  and  besides,  my  head  isn't  right, 
with  'Ntoni  in  prison." 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  269 

And  he  went  on  repeating  the  same  thing,  while 
the  money  ran  away  like  water,  and  all  his  people 
stayed  in  the  house  as  if  they  were  hiding,  and 
never  opened  the  door. 

At  last  the  day  of  trial  arrived,  and  those  who 
had  been  summoned  as  witnesses  had  to  go — on 
their  own  feet  if  they  did  not  wish  to  be  carried  by 
force  by  the  carbineers.  Even  Don  Franco  went, 
and  changed  his  ugly  hat,  to  appear  before  the 
majesty  of  justice  to  better  advantage,  but  he  was 
as  pale  as  'Ntoni  Malavoglia  himself,  who  stood  in- 
side the  bars  like  a  wild  beast,  with  the  carbineers 
on  each  side  of  him.  Don  Franco  had  never  be- 
fore had  anything  to  do  with  the  law,  and  he  trem- 
bled all  over  at  the  idea  of  going  into  the  midst  of 
all  those  judges  and  spies  and  policemen,  who 
would  catch  a  man  and  put  him  in  there  behind 
the  bars  like  'Ntoni  Malavoglia  before  he  could 
wink. 

The  whole  village  had  gone  out  to  see  what  kind 
of  a  figure  Padron  'Ntoni's  'Ntoni  would  make  be- 
hind the  bars  in  the  middle  of  the  carbineers,  yel- 
low as  a  tallow-candle,  not  daring  to  look  up  for 
fear  of  seeing  all  those  eyes  of  friends  and  ac- 
quaintances fixed  upon  him,  turning  his  cap  over 
and  over  in  his  hands  while  the  president,  in  his 
long  black  robe  and  with  napkin  under  his  chin, 
went  on  reading  a  long  list  of  the  iniquities  which 
he  had  committed  from  the  paper  where  they  were 
written  down  in  black  and  white.  Don  Michele 


270  THE    HOUSE   BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

was  there  too,  also  looking  yellow  and  ill,  sitting  in 
a  chair  opposite  to  the  "Jews"  (as  they  would  call 
the  jury),  who  kept  on  yawning  and  fanning  them- 
selves with  their  handkerchiefs.  Meanwhile  the 
advocate  kept  on  chatting  with  his  next  neighbor 
as  if  the  affair  were  no  concern  of  his. 

"  This  time,"  murmured  the  Zuppidda  in  the  ear 
of  the  person  next  her,  listening  to  all  those  awful 
things  that  'Ntoni  had  done,  "he  certainly  won't 
get  off  the  galleys." 

Santuzza  was  there  too,  to  say  where  'Ntoni  had 
been,  and  how  he  had  passed  that  evening. 

"  Now  I  wonder  what  they'll  ask  Santuzza,"  mur- 
mured the  Zuppidda.  "  I  can't  think  how  she'll  an- 
swer so  as  not  to  bring  out  all  her  own  villanies." 

"  But  what  is  it  they  want  of  us  ?"  asked  Cousin 
Grazia. 

"  They  want  to  know  if  it  is  true  that  Don  Mi- 
chele  had  an  understanding  with  Lia,  and  if  'Ntoni 
did  not  stab  him  because  of  that;  the  advocate 
told  me." 

"  Confound  you !"  whispered  the  druggist,  furi- 
ously, "do  you  all  want  to  go  to  the  galleys  ?  Don't 
you  know  that  before  the  law  you  must  always  say 
no,  and  that  we  know  nothing  at  all?" 

Cousin  Venera  wrapped  herself  in  her  mantle, 
but  went  on  muttering:  "It  is  the  truth.  I  saw 
them  with  my  own  eyes,  and  all  the  town  knows  it." 

That  morning  at  the  Malavoglia's  house  there 
had  been  a  terrible  scene  when  the  grandfather, 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  271 

seeing  the  whole  place  go  off  to  see  'Ntoni  tried, 
started  to  go  after  them. 

Lia,  with  tumbled  hair,  wild  eyes,  and  her  chin 
trembling  like  a  baby's,  wanted  to  go  too,  and  went 
about  the  house  looking  for  her  mantle  without 
speaking,  but  with  pale  face  and  trembling  hands. 

Mena  caught  her  by  those  hands,  saying,  pale  as 
death  herself,  "  No  !  you  must  not  go — you  must 
not  go  !"  and  nothing  else.  The  grandfather  added 
that  they  must  stay  at  home  and  pray  to  the  Ma- 
donna ;  and  they  wept  so  that  they  were  heard  all 
the  length  of  the  black  street.  The  poor  old  man 
had  hardly  reached  the  town  when,  hidden  at  a  cor- 
ner, he  saw  his  grandson  pass  among  the  carbi- 
neers, and  with  trembling  limbs  went  to  sit  on  the 
steps  of  the  court-house,  where  every  one  passed 
him  going  up  and  down  on  his  business.  Then  it 
came  over  him  that  all  those  people  were  going  to 
hear  his  grandson  condemned,  and  it  seemed  to 
him  as  if  he  were  leaving  him  alone  in  the  piazza 
surrounded  by  enemies,  or  out  at  sea  in  a  hurricane, 
and  so  he,  too,  amid  the  crowd,  went  up  the  stairs, 
and  strove,  by  rising  on  his  tiptoes,  to  see  through 
the  grating  and  past  the  shining  bayonets  of  the 
carbineers.  'Ntoni,  however,  he  could  not  see,  sur- 
rounded as  he  was  by  such  a  crowd  of  people ;  and 
more  than  ever  it  seemed  to  the  poor  old  man  that 
his  grandson  was  one  of  the  soldiers. 

Meanwhile  the  advocate  talked  and  talked  and 
talked,  until  it  seemed  that  his  flood  of  words  ran 


272  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

like  the  pulley  of  a  well,  up  and  down,  up  and  down, 
without  ceasing.  No,  he  said ;  no,  it  was  not 
true  that  'Ntoni  Malavoglia  had  been  guilty  of  all 
those  crimes.  The  president  had  gone  about  rak- 
ing up  all  sorts  of  stories — that  was  his  business, 
and  he  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  get  poor  helpless 
fellows  into  scrapes.  But,  after  all,  what  did  the 
president  know  about  it  ?  Had  he  been  there,  that 
rainy  night,  in  the  pitch  darkness,  to  see  what  'Ntoni 
Malavoglia  was  about  ?  "  In  the  poor  man's  house 
he  alone  is  in  the  wrong,  and  the  gallows  is  for  the 
unlucky."  The  president  went  on  looking  at  him 
calmly  with  his  eye-glasses,  leaning  his  elbows  on  his 
papers.  Doctor  Scipione  went  on  asking  where 
were  the  goods,  who  had  seen  the  goods  that 
was  what  he  wanted  to  know;  and  since  how  long 
had  honest  men  been  forbidden  to  walk  about  at 
whatever  hour  they  liked,  especially  when  they  had 
a  little  too  much  wine  in  their  heads  to  get  rid  of. 

Padron  'Ntoni  nodded  his  head  at  this,  or  said, 
"  Yes,  yes,"  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  would  have 
liked  to  hug  the  advocate,  who  had  called  'Ntoni  a 
blockhead.  Suddenly  he  lifted  his  head.  That 
was  good ;  what  the  lawyer  had  just  said  was  worth 
of  itself  fifty  francs.  He  said  that  since  they  want- 
ed to  drive  them  to  the  wall,  and  to  prove  plain 
as  two  and  two  make  four  that  they  had  caught 
'Ntoni  Malavoglia  in  the  act,  with  the  knife  in  his 
hand,  and  had  brought  Don  Michele  there  before 
them  with  his  stupid  face,  well,  then,  "  How  are 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  273 

you  to  prove  that  it  was  'Ntoni  Malavoglia  who 
stabbed  him  ?  Who  knows  that  it  was  he  ?  Who 
can  tell  that  Don  Michele  didn't  stab  himself  on 
purpose  to  send  'Ntoni  Malavoglia  to  the  galleys  ? 
Do  you  really  want  to  know  the  truth?  Smug- 
gled goods  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Between 
'Ntoni  Malavoglia  and  Don  Michele  there  was  an 
old  quarrel  —  a  quarrel  about  a  woman. "  And 
Padron  'Ntoni  nodded  again  in  assent,  for  didn't 
everybody  know,  and  wasn't  he  ready  to  swear  be- 
fore the  crucifix,  too,  that  Don  Michele  was  furious 
with  jealousy  of  'Ntoni  since  Santuzza  had  taken  a 
fancy  to  him,  and.  then  meeting  Don  Michele  by 
night,  and  after  the  boy  had  been  drinking,  too? 
One  knows  how  it  is  when  one's  eyes  are  clouded 
with  drink.  The  advocate  continued  .- 

"  You  may  ask  the  Zuppidda,  and  Dame  Grazia, 
and  a  dozen  more  witnesses,  if  it  is  not  true  that 
Don  Michele  had  an  understanding  with  Lia,  'Ntoni 
Malavoglia' s  sister,  and  he  was  always  prowling 
about  the  black  street  in  the  evening  after  the  girl. 
They  saw  him  there  the  very  night  on  which  he 
was  stabbed." 

Padron  'Ntoni  heard  no  more,  for  his  ears  began 
to  ring,  and  at  that  moment  he  caught  sight  of 
'Ntoni,  who  had  sprung  up  behind  the  bars,  tearing 
his  cap  like  a  madman,  and  shaking  his  head  vio- 
lently, with  flashing  eyes,  and  trying  to  make  him- 
self heard.  The  by-standers  took  the  old  man  out, 
supposing  that  he  had  had  a  stroke,  and  the  guards 
18 


274  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

laid  him  on  a  bench  in  the  witnesses'  room  and 
threw  water  in  his  face.  Later,  while  they  were 
taking  him  down-stairs  tottering  and  clinging  to 
their  arms,  the  crowd  came  pouring  out  like  a 
torrent,  and  they  were  heard  to  say,  "They  have 
condemned  him  to  five  years  in  irons."  At  that 
moment  'Ntoni  came  out  himself,  deadly  pale,  hand- 
cuffed, in  the  midst  of  the  carbineers. 

Cousin  Grazia  went  off  home,  running,  and 
reached  there  sooner  than  the  others,  panting  with 
speed,  for  ill  news  always  comes  on  wings.  Hardly 
had  she  caught  sight  of  Lia,  who  stood  waiting  at 
the  door  like  a  soul  in  purgatory,  than  she  caught 
her  by  both  hands,  exclaiming :  "  Wretched  girl ! 
what  have  you  done  ?  They  have  told  the  judge 
that  you  had  an  understanding  with  Don  Michel e, 
and  your  grandfather  had  a  stroke  when  he  heard  it." 

Lia  answered  not  a  word  any  more  than  if  she 
had  not  heard  or  did  not  care.  She  only  stared 
with  wide  eyes  and  open  mouth.  At  last  she  sank 
slowly  down  upon  a  chair,  as  if  she  had  lost  the  use 
of  her  limbs.  So  she  remained  for  many  minutes 
without  motion  or  speech,  while  Cousin  Grazia 
threw  water  in  her  face  until  she  began  to  stammer, 
"  I  can't  stay  here  !  I  must  go — I  must  go  away  !" 

Her  sister  followed  her  about  the  room,  weeping 
and  trying  to  catch  her  by  the  hands,  while  she 
went  on  saying  to  the  cupboard  and  to  the  chairs, 
like  a  mad  creature,  "  I  must  go  !" 

In  the  evening,  when  her  grandfather  was  brought 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  275 

home  on  a  cart,  and  Mena,  careless  now  whether 
she  were  seen  or  not,  went  out  to  meet  him,  Lia 
went  first  into  the  court  and  then  into  the  street, 
and  then  went  away  altogether,  and  nobody  ever 
saw  her  any  more. 


XV. 

PEOPLE  said  that  Lia  was  gone  to  live  with  Don 
Michele;  that  the  Malavoglia,  after  all,  had  noth- 
ing left  to  lose,  and  Don  Michele  would  give  her 
bread  to  eat.  Padron  'Ntoni  was  of  no  use  to  any- 
body any  more.  He  did  nothing  but  wander  about, 
bent  almost  double,  and  uttering  at  intervals  prov- 
erbs without  sense  or  meaning,  like,  "A  hatchet  for 
the  fallen  tree";  "Who  falls  in  the  water  gets  wet"; 
"The  thinnest  horse  has  the  most  flies";  and  when 
they  asked  him  why  he  was  always  wandering  about, 
he  said,  "  Hunger  drives  the  wolf  out  of  the  wood," 
or,  "The  hungry  dog  fears  not  the  stick,"  but  no 
one  asked  how  he  was,  or  seemed  to  care  about 
him,  now  he  was  reduced  to  such  a  condition. 
They  teased  him,  and  asked  him  why  he  stood 
waiting  with  his  back  against  the  church-tower,  like 
Uncle  Crucifix  when  he  had  money  to  lend ,-  or  sit- 
ting under  the  boats  which  were  drawn  up  on  the 
sand,  as  if  he  had  Padron  Fortunato's  bark  out  at 
sea.  And  Padron  'Ntoni  replied  that  he  was  wait- 
ing for  Death,  who  would  not  come  to  take  him,  for 


276  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

"Long  are  the  days  of  the  unhappy."  No  one  in 
the  house  ever  spoke  of  Lia,  not  even  Sant'Agata, 
who,  if  she  wished  to  relieve  her  feelings,  went 
and  wept  beside  her  mother's  bed  when  she  was 
alone  in  the  house.  Now  this  house,  too,  had  be- 
come as  wide  as  the  sea,  and  they  were  lost  in  it. 
The  money  was  gone  with  'Ntoni,  Alessio  was  al- 
ways away  here  or  there  at  work,  and  Nunziata 
used  to  be  charitable  enough  to  come  and  kindle 
the  fire  when  Mena  used  to  have  to  go  out  towards 
evening  and  lead  her  grandfather  home  in  the  dusk, 
because  he  was  half  blind.  Don  Silvestro  and  oth- 
ers in  the  place  said  that  Alessio  would  do  better 
to  send  his  grandfather  to  the  poor-house,  now  that 
he  was  of  no  more  use  to  anybody;  but  that  was 
the  only  thing  that  frightened  the  poor  old  fellow. 
Every  time  that  Mena  led  him  out  by  the  hand  in 
the  morning  to  take  him  where  the  sun  shone,  "  to 
wait  for  Death,"  he  thought  that  they  were  leading 
him  to  the  poor-house,  so  silly  was  he  grown,  and 
he  went  on  stammering,  "  But  will  Death  never 
come  ?"  so  that  some  people  used  to  ask  him,  laugh- 
ing, where  he  thought  Death  had  gone. 

Alessio  came  back  every  Saturday  night  and 
brought  all  his  money  and  counted  it  out  to  his 
grandfather,  as  if  he  had  still  been  reasonable.  He 
always  replied,  "Yes,  yes,"  and  nodded  his  head, 
and  they  always  had  to  hide  the  little  sum  under 
the  mattress,  in  the  old  place,  and  told  him,  to 
please  him,  that  they  were  putting  it  away  to  buy 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  277 

back  the  house  by  the  medlar-tree,  and  that  in  a 
year  or  two  they  should  have  enough.  But  then 
the  old  man  shook  his  head  obstinately,  and  replied 
that  now  they  did  not  need  the  house,  and  that  it 
would  have  been  better  if  there  had  never  been  the 
house  of  the  Malavoglia,  now  that  the  Malavoglia 
were  all  scattered  here  and  there.  Once  he  call- 
ed Nunziata  aside  under  the  almond- tree,  when 
no  one  was  by,  and  seemed  to  be  anxious  to  say 
something  very  important;  but  he  moved  his  lips 
without  speaking,  and  seemed  to  be  seeking  for 
words,  looking  from  side  to  side.  "  Is  it  true  what 
they  say  about  Lia?1'  he  said  at  last. 

"  No/'  replied  Nunziata,  crossing  her  hands  on 
her  breast,  "no;  by  the  Madonna  of  Ognino,  it  is 
not  true  !" 

He  began  to  shake  his  head,  with  his  chin  sunk 
on  his  breast.  "  Then  why  has  she  run  away,  too  ? 
Why  has  she  run  away  ?" 

And  he  went  about  the  house  looking  for  her, 
pretending  to  have  lost  his  cap,  touching  the  bed 
and  the  cupboard,  and  sitting  down  at  the  loom 
without  speaking.  "  Do  you  know,"  he  asked  after 
a  while — "do  you  know  where  she  is  gone?"  But 
to  Mena  he  said  nothing.  Nunziata  really  did 
not  know  where  she  was,  nor  did  any  one  else  in 
the  place. 

One  evening  there  came  and  stopped  in  the  black 
street  Alfio  Mosca,  with  the  cart,  to  which  was  now 
harnessed  a  mule ;  and  he  had  had  the  fever  at 


278  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

Bicocca  and  had  nearly  died,  so  that  his  face  was 
yellow  as  saffron,  and  he  had  lost  his  fine,  straight 
figure,  but  the  mule  was  fat  and  shining. 

"  Do  you  remember  when  I  went  away  to  Bi- 
cocca?— when  you  were  still  in  the  house  by  the 
medlar?"  he  asked.  "Now  everything  is  changed, 
for  'the  world  is  round,  some  swim  and  some  are 
drowned.'  "  This  time  they  had  not  even  a  glass 
of  wine  to  offer  him  in  welcome. 

Cousin  Alfio  knew  where  Li  a  was — he  had  seen 
her  with  his  own  eyes,  looking  just  as  Cousin  Mena 
used  to  when  she  used  to  come  to  her  window  and 
he  talked  to  her  from  his.  For  which  reason  he 
sat  still,  looking  from  one  thing  to  another,  looking 
at  the  furniture  and  at  the  walls,  and  feeling  as  if 
the  loaded  cart  were  lying  on  his  breast,  while  he 
sat  without  speaking  beside  the  empty  table,  to 
which  they  no  longer  sat  down  to  eat  the  evening 
meal. 

"  Now  I  must  go,"  he  repeated,  finding  that  no 
one  spoke  to  him.  "When  one  has  left  one's  home 
it  is  better  never  to  come  back,  for  everything 
changes  while  one  is  away,  and  even  the  faces  that 
meet  one  are  changed,  so  that  one  feels  like  a 
stranger." 

Mena  continued  silent.  Meanwhile  Alessio  be- 
gan to  tell  him  how  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
marry  Nunziata  as  soon  as  he  had  put  together  a 
little  money,  and  Alfio  replied  that  he  was  quite 
right,  if  Nunziata  had  also  saved  a  little  money,  for 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  279 

that  she  was  a  good  girl,  and  everybody  knew  her 
in  the  place.  So  even  do  our  nearest  and  dearest 
forget  us  when  we  are  no  longer  here,  and  each 
thinks  of  his  own  affairs  and  of  bearing  the  burden 
which  God  has  given  him,  like  Alfio  Mosca's  ass, 
poor  beast,  who  was  sold,  and  gone  no  one  knew 
where. 

Nunziata  had  her  own  dowry  by  this  time,  for 
her  brothers  were  growing  big  enough  to  earn  their 
own  bread,  and  even  to  put  by  now  and  then  a 
soldo ;  and  she  had  never  bought  jewellery  or  good 
clothes  for  herself,  for,  she  said,  gold  was  for  rich 
people,  and  white  clothes  it  was  nonsense  to  buy 
while  she  was  still  growing. 

By  this  time  she  was  grown  up,  a  tall,  slight  girl 
with  black  hair  and  deep  sweet  eyes,  that  had  never 
lost  the  look  they  wore  when  she  found  herself  de- 
serted by  her  father,  with  all  her  little  brothers  on 
her  hands,  whom  she  had  reared  through  all  those 
years  of  care  and  trouble.  Seeing  how  she  had 
pulled  through  all  these  troubles — she  and  her  lit- 
tle brothers,  and  she  a  slip  of  a  thing  "  no  bigger 
than  the  broom-handle " — every  one  was  glad  to 
speak  to  her  and  to  notice  her  if  they  met  her  in  the 
street.  "  The  money  we  have,"  she  said  to  Cousin 
Alfio,  who  was  almost  like  a  relation,  they  had 
known  him  so  long.  "At  All  Saints  my  eldest 
brother  is  going  to  Master  Filippo  as  hired  man, 
and  the  second  to  Padron  Cipolla,  in  his  place. 
When  we  have  found  a  place  for  Turi  I  shall  marry, 


280  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

but  I  must  wait  until  I  am  older  and  my  father 
gives  his  consent." 

"  But  your  father  doesn't  even  think  whether  you 
are  alive  or  dead,"  said  Alfio. 

"  If  he  were  to  come  back  now,"  said  Nunziata, 
calmly,  in  her  sweet  voice,  sitting  quietly  with  her 
hands  on  her  knees,  "  he  would  stay,  because  now 
we  have  some  money." 

Then  Cousin  Alfio  repeated  to  Alessio  that  he 
would  do  well  to  marry  Nunziata,  now  that  she  had 
money. 

"We  shall  buy  back  the  house  by  the  medlar," 
added  Alessio ;  "  and  grandfather  will  live  with  us. 
When  the  others  come  back  they  will  live  there  too, 
and  if  Nunziata's  father  comes,  there  will  also  be 
room  for  him." 

No  one  spoke  of  Lia,  but  they  all  thought  of  her 
as  they  sat  with  arms  on  their  knees,  looking  into 
the  moonlight. 

Finally  Cousin  Mosca  got  up  to  go,  because  his 
mule  shook  his  bells  impatiently,  almost  as  if  he 
had  known  who  it  was  whom  Cousin  Alfio  had  met, 
and  whom  they  did  not  expect,  at  the  house  by  the 
medlar-tree. 

Uncle  Crucifix  expected  that  the  Malavoglia 
would  come  to  him  about  that  house  by  the  medlar, 
which  had  been  lying  all  this  time  on  his  hands  as 
if  nobody  cared  to  have  it;  so  that  he  had  no  soon- 
er heard  that  Alfio  Mosca  was  come  back  to  the 
place  than  he  went  after  him  to  ask  him  to  speak 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  281 

to  the  Malavoglia  and  induce  them  to  settle  the 
affair,  forgetting,  apparently,  that  he  had  been  so 
jealous  of  Alfio  Mosca,  when  he  went  away,  that  he 
had  wished  to  break  his  ribs  with  a  big  stick. 

"Listen,  Cousin  Alfio,"  said  Dumb-bell.  "If 
you'll  arrange  that  affair  of  the  house  with  the  Mal- 
avoglia, when  they  have  the  money,  I'll  give  you 
enough  to  pay  for  the  shoes  you'll  wear  out  going 
between  us." 

Cousin  Alfio  went  to  speak  to  the  Malavoglia, 
but  Padron  'Ntoni  shook  his  head  and  said,  "No; 
now  we  should  not  know  what  to  do  with  the  house, 
for  Mena  is  not  likely  to  marry,  and  there  are  no 
Malavoglia  left.  I  am  still  here,  because  the  afflict- 
ed have  long  lives.  But  when  I  am  gone  Alessio 
will  marry  Nunziata,  and  they  will  go  away  from  the 
place." 

He,  too,  was  going  away.  The  greater  part  of 
the  time  he  passed  in  bed,  like  a  crab  under  the 
pebbles,  crying  out  with  pain.  "What  have  I  to 
do  here  ?"  he  stammered,  and  he  felt  as  if  he  was 
robbing  them  of  the  food  they  gave  him.  In  vain 
did  Mena  and  Alessio  seek  to  persuade  him  other- 
wise. He  repeated  that  he  was  robbing  them  of 
their  food  and  of  their  time,  and  made  them  count 
the  money  hidden  under  the  mattress,  and  if  it  grew 
less,  he  muttered:  "At  least  if  I  were  not  here  you 
would  not  need  to  spend  so  much.  There  is  nothing 
left  for  me  to  do  here,  and  it  is  time  I  was  gone." 

The  doctor,  who  came  to  feel  his  pulse,  said  that 


282  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

it  was  better  they  should  take  him  to  the  hospital, 
for  where  he  was  he  wore  out  his  own  life,  and  theirs 
too,  to  no  purpose.  Meanwhile  the  poor  old  man 
looked  from  one  to  the  other  trying  to  guess  what 
was  said,  with  sad  faded  eyes,  trembling  lest  they 
should  send  him  to  the  poor-house.  Alessio  would 
not  hear  of  sending  him  to  the  poor-house,  and  said 
that  while  there  was  bread  for  any  of  them,  there 
was  for  all ;  and  Mena,  for  her  part,  also  said  no, 
and  took  him  out  into  the  sun  on  fine  days,  and  sat 
down  by  him  with  her  distaff,  telling  him  stories  as 
she  would  have  done  to  a  child,  and  spinning,  when 
she  was  not  obliged  to  go  to  wash.  She  talked  to 
him  also  of  what  they  would  do  if  any  little  provi- 
dential fortune  were  to  happen  to  them,  to  comfort 
him,  telling  him  how  they  would  buy  a  calf  at  Saint 
Sebastian,  and  how  she  would  be  able  to  cut  grass 
enough  to  feed  it  through  the  winter.  In  May  they 
would  sell  it  again  at  a  profit ;  and  she  showed  him 
the  brood  of  chickens  she  had,  and  how  they  came 
picking  about  their  feet  as  they  sat  in  the  sun  and 
rolling  in  the  dust  of  the  street.  With  the  money 
they  would  get  for  the  chickens  they  would  buy  a 
pig,  so  as  not  to  lose  the  fig-peelings  or  the  water  in 
which  the  macaroni  had  been  boiled,  and  at  the 
end  of  the  year  it  would  be  as  if  they  had  been  put- 
ting money  in  a  money-box.  The  old  man,  with  his 
hands  on  his  stick, 'gave  approving  nods,  looking  at 
the  chickens.  He  listened  so  attentively  that  at 
last  he  got  so  far  as  to  say  that  if  they  had  got 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  283 

back  the  house  by  the  medlar  they  could  have 
kept  the  pig  in  the  court,  and  that  it  would  bring 
a  certain  profit  with  Cousin  Naso.  At  the  house 
by  the  medlar -tree  there  was  also  the  stable  for 
the  calf,  and  the  shed  for  the  hay,  and  everything. 
He  went  on,  recalling  one  thing  after  another,  look- 
ing about  him  with  sunken  eyes  and  his  chin  upon 
his  stick.  Then  he  would  ask  his  granddaughter 
under  his  breath,  "What  was  it  the  doctor  said 
about  the  hospital  ?" 

And  Mena  would  scold  him  as  if  he  were  a  child, 
saying  to  him,  "  Why  do  you  think  about  such 
things  ?" 

He  was  silent,  and  listened  quietly  to  all  she  said. 
But  then  he  repeated,  "  Don't  send  me  to  the  hos- 
pital, I'm  not  used  to  it." 

At  last  he  ceased  to  get  out  of  bed,  and  the  doc- 
tor said  that  it  was  all  over  with  him,  and  that  he 
could  do  no  more,  but  that  he  might  live  like  that 
for  years,  and  that  Alessio  and  Mena,  and  Nunzi- 
ata,  too,  would  have  to  give  up  their  day's  work  to 
take  care  of  him;  for  that  if  there  were  not  some 
one  near  him  the  pigs  might  eat  him  up  if  the  door 
were  left  open. 

Padron  'Ntoni  understood  quite  well  what  was 
said,  for  he  looked  at  their  faces  one  after  another 
with  eyes  that  it  would  break  one's  heart  to  see ; 
and  the  doctor  was  still  standing  on  the  door-step 
with  Mena,  who  was  weeping,  and  Alessio,  who 
said  no,  and  stamped  and  stormed  when  he  signed 


284  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

to  Nunziata  to  come  near  him,  and  whispered 
to  her: 

"It  will  be  better  to  send  me  to  the  hospital; 
here,  I  am  eating  them  out  of  house  and  home. 
Send  me  away  some  day  when  Mena  and  Alessio 
are  gone  out.  They  say  no,  because  they  have  the 
good  heart  of  the  Malavoglia,  but  I  am  eating  up 
the  money  which  should  be  put  away  for  the  house; 
and  then  the  doctor  said  that  I  might  live  like  this 
for  years,  and  there  is  nothing  here  for  me  to  do. 
But  I  don't  want  to  live  for  years  down  there  at  the 
hospital." 

Nunziata  began  to  cry,  and  she  also  said  no,  un- 
til all  the  neighborhood  cried  out  upon  them  for 
being  proud,  when  they  hadn't  bread  to  eat.  They 
ashamed  to  send  their  grandfather  to  the  hospital, 
when  the  rest  were  scattered  about  here  and  there, 
and  in  such  places,  too ! 

So  it  went  on,  over  and  over,  and  the  doctor  kept 
on  saying  that  it  was  of  no  use,  his  coming  and 
going  for  nothing;  and  when  the  gossips  came  to 
stand  round  the  old  man's  bed,  Cousin  Grazia,  or 
Anna,  or  Nunziata,  he  went  on  saying  that  the  fleas 
were  eating  him  up.  Padron  'Ntoni  did  not  dare 
to  open  his  mouth,  but  lay  there  still,  worn  and 
pale.  And  as  the  gossips  went  on  talking  among 
themselves,  and  even  Nunziata  could  not  answer 
them,  one  day  when  Alessio  was  not  there  he  said, 
at  last : 

"  Go  and  call  Cousin  Alfio  Mosca,  that  he  may 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  285 

do  me  the  charity  to  carry  me  to  the  hospital  in  his 
cart." 

So  Padron  'Ntoni  went  away  to  the  hospital  in 
Alfio  Mosca's  cart — they  had  put  the  mattress  and 
pillows  in  it — but  the  poor  sick  man,  although  he 
said  nothing,  looked  long  at  everything  while  they 
carried  him  to  the  cart  one  day  when  Alessio  was 
gone  to  Riposto,  and  they  had  sent  Mena  away  on 
some  pretext,  or  they  would  not  have  let  him  go. 
In  the  black  street,  when  they  passed  before  the 
"house  by  the  medlar-tree,  and  while  they  were  cross- 
ing the  piazza,  Padron  'Ntoni  continued  to  look 
about  him  as  if  to  fix  everything  in  his  memory. 
Alfio  led  the  mule  on  one  side,  and  Nunziata — who 
had  left  Turi  in  charge  of  the  calf,  the  turkeys,  and 
the  fowls — walked  on  the  other  side,  with  the  bun- 
dle of  shirts  under  her  arm.  Seeing  the  cart  pass, 
every  one  came  out  to  look  at  it,  and  watched  it 
until  it  was  out  of  sight;  and  Don  Silvestro  said 
that  they  had  done  quite  right,  and  that  it  was  for 
that  the  commune  paid  the  rate  for  the  hospital; 
and  Don  Franco  would  also  have  made  his  little 
speech  if  Don  Silvestro  had  not  been  there.  "At 
least  that  poor  devil  will  be  left  in  peace,"  said 
Uncle  Crucifix. 

"  Necessity  abases  nobility,"  said  Padron  Cipolla, 
and  Santuzza  repeated  an  Ave  Maria  for  the  poor 
old  man.  Only  the  cousin  Anna  and  Cousin  Grace 
Goosefoot  wiped  their  eyes  with  their  aprons  as  the 
cart  moved  slowly  away,  jolting  on  the  stones.  But 


286  THE   HOUSE   BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

Uncle  Tino  chicl  his  wife:  "What  are  you  whining 
about  ?     Am  I  dead  ?     What  is  it  to  you  ?" 

Alfio  Mosca,  as  he  guided  the  cart,  related  to 
Nunziata  how  and  where  he  had  seen  Lia,  who  was 
the  image  of  Sant'Agata;  and  he  even  yet  could 
hardly  believe  that  he  had  really  seen  her,  and  his 
voice  was  almost  lost  as  he  spoke  of  it,  to  while 
the  time,  as  they  walked  along  the  dusty  road.  "Ah, 
Nunziata  !  who  would  have  thought  it  when  we  used 
to  talk  to  each  other  from  the  doors,  and  the  moon 
shone,  and  we  heard  the  neighbors  talking  in  front, 
and  Sant'Agata's  loom  was  going  all  day  long,  and 
those  hens  that  knew  her  as  soon  as  she  opened 
the  door,  and  La  Longa,  who  called  her  from  the 
court,  and  everything  could  be  heard  in  my  house 
as  plainly  as  in  theirs.  Poor  Longa !  See,  now, 
that  1  have  my  mule  and  everything  just  as  I  wish- 
ed, and  I  wouldn't  have  believed  it  would  have 
happened  if  an  angel  had  told  me;  now  I  am  al- 
ways thinking  of  those  old  times  and  the  evenings 
when  I  heard  all  your  voices  when  I  was  stabling 
my  donkey,  and  saw  the  light  in  the  house  by  the 
medlar,  which  is  now  shut  up,  and  how  when  I  came 
back  I  found  nothing  as  I  left  it,  and  Cousin  Mena 
so  changed !  When  one  leaves  one's  own  place  it 
is  better  never  to  come  back.  See,  I  keep  thinking, 
too,  about  that  poor  donkey  that  worked  for  me  so 
long,  and  went  on  always,  rain  or  shine,  with  his 
bent  head  and  his  long  ears.  Now  who  knows 
where  they  drive  him,  by  what  rough  ways,  or  with 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  287 

what  heavy  loads,  and  how  his  ears  hang  down 
lower  than  ever,  and  he  snuffs  at  the  earth  which 
will  soon  cover  him,  for  he  is  old,  poor  beast  ?" 

Padron  'Ntoni,  stretched  on  the  mattress,  heard 
nothing,  and  they  had  put  a  covering  drawn  over 
canes  on  the  cart,  so  that  it  seemed  as  if  they  were 
carrying  a  corpse. 

"  For  him  it  is  best  that  he  should  not  hear," 
continued  Cousin  Alfio.  "  He  felt  for  'Ntoni's 
trouble,  and  it  would  be  so  much  worse  if  he  ever 
came  to  hear  how  Lia  has  gone." 

"  He  asked  me  about  her  often  when  we  were 
alone,"  said  Nunziata.  "  He  wanted  to  know  where 
she  was." 

"  §>he  is  worse  off  than  her  brother  is.  We,  poor 
things,  are  like  sheep;  we  go  where  we  see  others 
go.  You  must  never  tell  any  one,  especially  any 
one  in  our  place,  where  I  saw  Lia,  for  it  would  kill 
Sant'Agata.  She  recognized  me,  certainly,  when  I 
passed  where  she  stood  at  the  door,  for  she  turned 
white  and  then  red,  and  I  whipped  my  mule  to  get 
past  as  quick  as  I  could,  and  I  am  sure  that  poor 
thing  would  rather  have  had  the  cart  go  over  her, 
or  that  I  might  have  been  driving  her  the  corpse 
that  her  grandfather  seems.  Now  the  family  of  the 
Malavoglia  is  destroyed,  and  you  and  Alessio  must 
bring  it  up  again." 

"  We  have  the  money  for  the  plenishing.  At 
Saint  John's  Day  we  shall  sell  the  calf." 

"  Bravo  !     So,  when  the  money  is  put  away  there 


288  THE    HOUSE   BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

won't  be  the  chance  of  losing  it  in  a  day,  as  you 
might  if  the  calf  happened  to  die — the  Lord  forbid ! 
Here  we  are  at  the  first  houses  of  the  town,  and 
you  can  wait  for  me  here  if  you  don't  want  to  come 
to  the  hospital/' 

"  No.  I  want  to  go  too,  so  at  least  I  shall  see 
where  they  put  him,  and  he  will  have  me  with  him 
to  the  last  moment." 

Padron  'Ntoni  saw  them  even  to  the  last  moment, 
and  while  Nunziata  went  away  with  Alfio  Mosca, 
slowly,  slowly,  down  the  long,  long  room,  that 
seemed  like  a  church,  he  accompanied  them  with 
his  eyes,  and  then  turned  on  his  side  and  moved 
no  more.  Cousin  Alfio  and  Nunziata  rolled  up  the 
mattress  and  the  cover,  and  got  into  the  cart  and 
drove  home  over  the  long  dusty  road  in  silence. 

Alessio  beat  his  head  with  his  fists  and  tore  his 
hair  when  he  found  his  grandfather  no  longer  in 
his  bed,  and  when  they  brought  home  his  mattress 
rolled  up,  and  raved  at  Mena  as  if  it  had  been  she 
who  had  sent  him  away.  But  Cousin  Alfio  said  to 
him:  "What  will  you  have?  The  house  of  the 
Malavoglia  is  destroyed,  and  you  and  Nunziata 
must  set  it  going  again." 

He  wanted  to  go  on  talking  about  the  money 
and  about  the  calf,  of  which  he  and  the  girl  had 
been  talking  as  they  went  to  town;  but  Mena  and 
Alessio  would  not  listen  to  him,  but  sat,  with  their 
heads  in  their  hands  and  eyes  full  of  tears,  at  the 
door  of  the  house,  where  they  were  now  alone,  in- 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  289 

deed.  Cousin  Alfio  tried  to  comfort  them  by  talk- 
ing of  the  old  days  of  the  house  by  the  medlar- 
tree,  when  they  used  to  talk  to  each  other  from 
the  doors  in  the  moonlight,  and  how  all  day  long 
Sant'Agata's  loom  was  beating,  and  the  hens  were 
clucking,  and  they  heard  the  voice  of  La  Longa,  who 
was  always  busy.  Now  everything  was  changed, 
and  when  one  left  one's  own  place  it  was  best,  he 
said,  never  to  come  back ;  for  even  the  street  was 
not  the  same,  now  there  was  no  one  coming  there 
for  the  Mangiacarubbe ;  and  even  Don  Silvestro 
never  was  seen  waiting  for  the  Zuppidda  to  fall  at 
his  feet ;  and  Uncle  Crucifix  was  always  shut  up  in 
the  house  looking  after  his  things  or  quarrelling 
with  Vespa;  and  even  in  the  drug  shop  there  wasn't 
so  much  talking  since  Don  Franco  had  looked  the 
law  in  the  face  and  shut  himself  in  to  read  the  pa- 
per, and  pounded  all  his  ideas  up  into  his  mor- 
tar to  pass  away  the  time.  Even  Padron  Cipolla 
no  longer  wore  out  the  steps  of  the  church  by  sit- 
ting there  so  much  since  he  had  had  no  peace  at 
home. 

One  fine  day  came  the  news  that  Padron  Fortu- 
nato  was  going  to  be  married,  in  order  that  the 
Mangiacarubbe  might  not  devour  his  substance  in 
spite  of  him,  for  that  he  now  no  longer  wore  out 
the  church-steps,  but  was  going  to  marry  Barbara 
Zuppidda.  "And  he  said  matrimony  was  like  a 
rat-trap,"  growled  Uncle  Crucifix.  "After  that  I'll 
trust  nobody." 
19 


290  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

The  curious  girls  said  that  Barbara  was  going  to 
marry  her  grandfather,  but  sensible  people  like 
Peppi  Naso  and  Goosefoot,  and  Don  Franco,  too, 
murmured :  "  Now  Venera  has  got  the  better  of 
Don  Silvestro,  and  it  is  a  great  blow  for  Don  Sil- 
vestro,  and  it  would  be  better  if  he  left  the  place. 
Hang  all  foreigners !  Here  no  foreigners  ever 
really  take  root.  Don  Silvestro  will  never  dare  to 
measure  himself  with  Padron  Cipolla." 

"  What  did  he  think?"  screamed  Venera,  with  her 
hands  on  her  hips — "  that  he  could  starve  me  into 
giving  him  my  girl  ?  This  time  I  will  have  my  way, 
and  I  have  made  my  husband  understand  as  much. 
1  The  faithful  dog  sticks  to  his  own  trough.'  We 
want  no  foreigners  in  our  house.  Once  we  were 
much  better  off  in  the  place — before  the  strangers 
came  to  write  down  on  paper  every  mouthful  that 
one  ate,  or  to  pound  marsh-mallows  in  a  mortar, 
and  fatten  on  other  people's  blood.  Then  every- 
body knew  everybody  and  what  everybody  did,  and 
what  their  fathers  and  grandfathers  had  done,  even 
to  what  they  had  to  eat;  if  one  saw  a  person  pass 
one  knew  where  they  were  going,  and  the  fields  and 
the  vineyards  belonged  to  the  people  who  were 
born  among  them,  and  the  fish  didn't  let  themselves 
be  caught  by  just  anybody.  In  those  days  people 
didn't  go  wandering  here  and  there  and  didn't  die 
in  the  hospital." 

Since  everybody  was  getting  married,  Alfio  Mos- 
ca  would  have  been  glad  to  marry  Cousin  Mena, 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  29 1 

who  had  no  longer  any  prospect  of  marrying,  since 
the  Malavoglia  family  was  broken  up,  and  Cousin 
Alfio  could  not  now  be  called  a  bad  match  for  her, 
with  the  mule  which  he  had  bought;  so  he  rumi- 
nated, one  Sunday,  over  all  the  reasons  which  could 
give  him  courage  to  speak  to  her  as  he  sat  by  her 
side  in  front  of  the  door  with  his  back  against  the 
wall,  breaking  twigs  off  the  bushes  to  give  him- 
self a  countenance  and  pass  away  the  time.  She 
watched  the  people  passing  by,  which  was  her  way 
of  keeping  holiday. 

"  If  you  are  willing  to  take  me  now,  Cousin 
Mena,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  am  ready,  for  my  part." 

Poor  Mena  did  not  even  turn  red,  feeling  that 
Cousin  Alfio  had  guessed  that  she  had  been  willing 
to  have  him  at  the  time  when  they  were  going  to 
give  her  to  Brasi  Cipolla — so  long  ago  that  time  ap- 
peared, and  she  herself  so  changed ! 

"  I  am  old  now,  Cousin  Alfio,"  she  said;  "  I  shall 
never  rnarry." 

"  If  you  are  old,  then  I  am  old  too,  for  I  was 
older  than  you  were  when  we  used  to  talk  to  each 
other  from  the  windows,  and  it  seems  as  if  it  was 
but  yesterday,  I  remember  it  all  so  well.  But  it 
must  be  eight  years  ago.  And  now,  when  your 
brother  Alessio  is  married,  you  will  be  left  alone." 

Mena  drew  her  shoulders  together  with  Cousin 
Anna's  favorite  gesture,  for  she  too  had  learned  to 
do  God's  will  and  not  complain;  and  Cousin  Alfio, 
seeing  this,  went  on :  "  Then  you  do  not  care  for 


2Q2  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

rne,  Cousin  Mena,  and  I  beg  you  to  forgive  my  ask- 
ing you  to  marry  me.  I  know  that  you  are  above 
me,  for  you  are  the  daughter  of  a  ship-master;  but 
now  you  have  nothing,  and  when  your  brother  mar- 
ries you  will  be  left  alone.  I  have  my  mule  and  my 
cart,  and  I  would  let  you  want  for  nothing,  Cousin 
Mena — but  pardon  the  liberty  I  have  taken." 

"  You  have  not  taken  a  liberty,  Cousin  Alfio,  nor 
am  I  offended;  I  would  have  said  yes  to  you  when 
we  had  the  Provvidenza  and  the  house  by  the  med- 
lar-tree if  my  relations  had  been  willing,  and  God 
knows  what  I  had  in  my  heart  when  you  went  away 
to  Bicocca  with  the  donkey-cart;  and  it  seems  as  if 
I  could  see  still  the  light  in  the  stable,  and  you 
piling  all  your  things  in  the  little  cart  in  the  court 
before  your  house.  Do  you  remember  ?" 

"  Indeed,  I  do  remember.  Then,  why  do  you  not 
take  me  now,  when  I  have  the  mule  instead  of  the 
donkey,  and  your  family  will  not  say  no  ?"• 

"  I  am  too  old  to  marry,"  said  Mena,  with  her 
head  bent  down.  "  I  am  twenty-six  years  old,  and 
it  is  too  late  for  me  to  marry  now." 

"  No,  that  is  not  the  reason  you  will  not  marry 
me,"  said  Alfio,  with  bent  head  as  well  as  she. 
"You  won't  tell  me  the  real  reason  ;"  and  they  went 
on  breaking  the  twigs,  without  speaking  or  looking 
at  each  other.  When  he  got  up  to  go  away,  with 
drooping  shoulders  and  bent  head,  Mena  followed 
him  with  her  eyes  as  long  as  she  could  see  him, 
and  then  looked  at  the  wall  opposite  and  sighed. 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  293 

As  Alfio  Mosca  said,  Alessio  had  taken  Nunziata 
to  wife,  and  had  bought  back  the  house  by  the 
medlar-tree. 

"  I  am  too  old  to  marry,"  said  Mena ;  "get  mar- 
ried you,  who  are  still  young,"  and  so  she  went  up 
into  the  upper  room  of  the  house  by  the  medlar, 
like  an  old  saucepan,  and  had  set  her  heart  at  rest, 
waiting  until  Nunziata  should  give  her  children  to 
be  a  mother  to.  They  had  the  hens  in  the  chicken- 
coop,  and  the  calf  in  the  stable,  and  the  fodder  and 
the  wood  in  the  shed,  and  the  nets  and  all  sorts  of 
tackle  hanging  up,  just  as  Padron  'Ntoni  had  de- 
scribed them;  and  Nunziata  had  planted  cabbages 
and  cauliflowers  in  the  garden,  with  those  slender 
arms  of  hers,  that  no  one  would  have  dreamed  could 
have  bleached  such  yards  and  yards  of  linen,  or 
that  such  a  slip  of  a  creature  could  have  brought 
into  the  world  those  rosy  fat  babies  that  Mena  was 
always  carrying  about  the  place,  as  if  she  had  borne 
them,  and  was  their  mother  in  very  truth. 

Cousin  Mosca  shook  his  head  when  he  saw  her 
pass,  and  turned  away  with  drooping  shoulders. 

"  You  did  not  think  me  worthy  of  the  honor  of 
marrying  you,"  he  said  once  when  they  were  alone, 
and  he  could  bear  it  no  longer. 

"  No,  Cousin  Alfio,"  answered  Mena,  with  start- 
ing tears.  "  I  swear  it  by  the  soul  of  this  innocent 
creature  in  my  arms;  that  is  not  my  motive.  But 
I  cannot  marry." 

"  And  why  should  you  not  marry,  Cousin  Mena  ?" 


294  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

"  No,  no,"  repeated  Cousin  Mena,  now  nearly 
weeping  outright.  "  Don't  make  me  say  it,  Cousin 
Alfio !  Don't  make  me  speak.  If  I  were  to  marry 
now  people  would  begin  to  talk  again  of  my  sister 
Lia,  so  that  no  one  can  marry  a  girl  of  the  Malavo- 
glia  after  what  has  happened.  You  yourself  would 
be  the  first  to  repent  of  doing  it.  Leave  me  ;  I  shall 
never  marry,  and  you  must  set  your  heart  at  rest." 

So  Cousin  Alfio  set  his  heart  at  rest,  and  Mena 
continued  to  carry  her  little  nephews  in  her  arms, 
almost  as  if  her  heart,  too,  were  at  rest;  and  she 
swept  out  the  room  up-stairs,  to  be  ready  for  the 
others  when  they  came  back — for  they  also  had 
been  born  in  the  house.  "As  if  they  were  gone 
on  journeys  from  which  any  one  ever  came  back  !" 
said  Goosefoot. 

Meanwhile  Padron  'Ntoni  was  gone — gone  on  a 
long  journey,  farther  than  Trieste,  farther  than  Alex- 
andria in  Egypt,  the  journey  whence  no  man  ever 
yet  came  back;  and  when  his  name  fell  into  the  talk, 
as  they  sat  resting,  counting  up  the  expenses  of  the 
week,  or  making  plans  for  the  future,  in  the  shade 
of  the  medlar-tree,  with  the  plates  upon  their  laps, 
a  silence  fell  suddenly  upon  them,  for  they  all  seem- 
ed to  have  the  poor  old  man  before  their  eyes,  as 
they  had  seen  him  the  last  time  they  went  to  visit 
him,  in  that  great  wide  chamber,  full  of  beds  in  long 
rows,  where  they  had  to  look  about  before  they 
could  find  him,  and  the  grandfather  waited  for  them 
as  the  souls  wait  in  purgatory,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on 


THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  295 

the  door,  although  he  now  could  hardly  see,  and 
went  on  touching  them  to  be  sure  that  they  were 
really  there  and  still  said  nothing,  though  they  could 
see  by  his  face  that  there  was  much  he  wished  to 
say;  and  their  hearts  ached  to  see  the  suffering  in 
his  face,  which  he  could  not  tell  them.  When  they 
told  him,  however,  how  they  had  got  back  the  house 
by  the  medlar,  and  were  going  to  take  him  back  to 
Trezza  again,  he  said  yes,  yes  with  his  eyes,  to  which 
the  light  came  back  once  more,  and  he  tried  to 
smile,  with  that  smile  of  those  who  smile  no  more 
or  who  smile  for  the  last  time,  which  stays,  planted 
in  the  heart  like  a  knife. 

And  so  it  was  with  the  Malavoglia  when  they 
went  on  Monday  with  Alfio  Mosca's  cart  to  bring 
back  their  grandfather,  and  found  that  he  was  gone. 
Remembering  all  these  things,  they  left  the  spoons 
on  their  plates,  and  went  on  thinking  and  thinking 
of  all  that  had  happened,  and  it  all  seemed  dark,  as 
it  was,  under  the  shade  of  the  medlar-tree.  Now 
when  their  cousin  Anna  came  to  spin  a  little  while 
with  her  gossips,  she  had  white  hair  and  had  lost 
her  cheerful  laugh,  because  she  had  no  time  to  be 
gay,  now  that  she  had  all  that  family  on  her  shoul- 
ders, and  Rocco,  too ;  and  every  day  she  had  to  go 
hunting  him  up,  about  the  streets  or  in  front  of  the 
tavern,  .and  drive  him  home  like  a  vagabond  calf. 
And  the  Malavoglia  had  also  two  vagabonds ;  and 
Alessio  went  on  beating  his  brains  to  think  where 
they  could  be,  by  what  burning  hot  roads,  white 


296  THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

with  dust,  that  they  had  never  yet  come  back  after 
all  that  long,  long  time. 

Late  one  evening  the  dog  began  to  bark  behind 
the  door  of  the  court,  and  Alessio  himself,  who  went 
to  open  the  door,  did  not  know  'Ntoni — who  had 
come  back  with  a  bag  under  his  arm — so  changed 
was  he,  covered  with  dust,  and  with  a  long  beard. 
When  he  had  come  in,  and  sat  down  in  a  corner, 
they  hardly  dared  to  welcome  him.  He  did  not 
seem  like  himself  at  all,  and  looked  about  the  walls 
as  if  Jhe  saw  them  for  the  first  time ;  and  the  dog, 
who  had  never  known  him,  barked  at  him  without 
stopping.  They  gave  him  food,  and  he  bent  his 
head  over  the  plate,  and  ate  and  drank  as  if  he 
had  not  seen  the  gifts  of  God  for  days  and  days, 
in  silence  ;  but  the  others  could  not  eat  for  sad- 
ness. Then  'Ntoni,  when  he  had  eaten  and  rested 
a  while,  took  up  his  bag  to  go. 

Alessio  had  hardly  dared  to  speak,  his  broth- 
er was  so  changed.  But  seeing  him  take  his  bag 
again,  in  act  to  go,  his  heart  leaped  up  into  his 
breast,  and  Mena  said,  in  a  wild  sort  of  way  : 

"  You're  going  ?" 

"Yes,"  replied  'Ntoni. 

"  And  where  will  you  go  ?"  asked  Alessio. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  came  to  see  you  all.  But  since 
I  have  been  here  the  food  seems  to  poison  me. 
Besides,  I  can't  stay  here,  where  everybody  knows 
me,  and  for  that  I  came  at  night.  I'll  go  along  way 
off,  where  nobody  knows  me,  and  earn  my  bread." 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  297 

The  others  hardly  dared  to  breathe,  for  their 
hearts  felt  as  if  they  were  held  in  a  vice,  and  they 
felt  that  he  was  right  in  speaking  as  he  did.  'Ntoni 
stood  at  the  door  looking  about  him,  not  being  able 
to  make  up  his  mind  to  go. 

"  I  will  let  you  know  where  I  am,"  he  said  at  last ; 
and  when  he  was  in  the  court  under  the  medlar-tree, 
where  it  was  dark,  he  said,  "  And  grandfather?" 

Alessio  did  not  answer.  'Ntoni  was  silent,  too, 
for  a  while,  and  then  said  : 

"  I  did  not  see  Lia." 

And  as  he  waited  in  vain  for  the  answer,  he 
added,  with  a  quiver  in  his  voice,  as  if  he  were  cold, 
"  Is  she  dead,  too  ?" 

Still  Alessio  did  not  answer.  Then  'Ntoni,  who 
was  under  the  medlar-tree,  with  his  bag  in  his  hand, 
sat  down,  for  his  legs  trembled  under  him,  but  rose 
up  suddenly,  stammering,  "Adieu ;  I  must  go." 

Before  going  away  he  wanted  to  go  over  the 
house  to  see  if  everything  were  in  its  old  place ; 
but  now  he  who  had  had  the  heart  to  leave  them 
all,  and  to  stab  Don  Michele,  and  to  pass  five  years 
in  prison,  had  not  the  heart  to  pass  from  one  room 
into  another  unless  they  bade  him  do  it.  Alessio, 
who  saw  in  his  eyes  that  he  wanted  to  see  all  the 
place,  took  him  into  the  stable  to  show  him  the 
calf  Nunziata  had  bought,  which  was  fat  and  sleek  ; 
and  in  a  corner  there  was  the  hen  with  her  chick- 
ens ;  then  he  took  him  in  the  kitchen,  where  they 
had  made  a  new  oven,  and  into  the  room  beside  it, 


298       .    THE    HOUSE    BY   THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

where  Mena  slept  with  Nunziata's  children,  who 
seemed  to  her  like  her  own.  'Ntoni  looked  at 
everything,  and  nodded  his  head,  saying,  "  There 
grandfather  would  have  put  the  calf,  and  here  the 
hens  us£d  to  be,  and  here  the  girls  slept  when  there 
was  the  other  one — "  But  there  he  stopped  short, 
and  looked  about  him, -with  tears  in  his  eyes.  At 
that  moment  the  Mangiacarubbe  passed  by,  scold- 
ing Brasi  Cipolla,  her  husband,  at  the  top  of  her 
voice,  and  'Ntoni  said,  "  That  one  has  found  a  hus- 
band, and  now  when  they  have  done  quarrelling 
they  will  go  back  to  their  own  house  to  sleep." 

The  others  were  silent,  and  all  the  village  was 
still,  only  now  and  then  was  heard  the  closing  of 
some  door;  and  Alessio  at  last  found  courage  to  say: 

"  If  you  will,  you,  too,  have  a  house  to  sleep  in. 
The  bed  is  here,  kept  on  purpose  for  you." 

"  No,"  replied  'Ntoni,  "I  must  go  away.  There 
is  my  mother's  bed  here,  too,  that  she  wetted  with 
her  tears  when  I  wanted  to  go  and  leave  her.  Do 
you  remember  the  pleasant  talks  we  used  to  have 
in  the  evenings  while  we  were  salting  the  ancho- 
vies ?  and  Nunziata  would  give  out  riddles  for  us 
to  guess,  and  mamma  was  there,  and  Lia,  and  all 
of  us,  and  we  could  hear  the  whole  village  talking, 
as  if  we  had  been  all  one  family.  And  I  was  ig- 
norant, and  knew  no  better  then  than  to  want  to 
get  away;  but  now  I  know  how  it  all  was,  and  I 
must  go,  I  must  go." 

He  spoke  at  that  moment  with  his  eyes  fixed  on 


THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE.  299 

the  ground,  and  his  head  bent  down  between  his 
shoulders.  Then  Alessio  threw  his  arms  round  his 
neck. 

"Adieu,"  repeated 'Ntoni.  "You  see  that  I  am 
right  in  saying  that  I  must  go.  Adieu.  Forgive 
me,  all  of  you." 

And  he  went,  with  his  bag  under  his  arm ;  then, 
when  he  was  in  the  middle  of  the  piazza,  now  dark 
and  deserted,  for  all  the  doors  were  shut,  he  stopped 
to  hear  if  they  would  shut  the  door  of  the  house  by 
the  medlar-tree,  while  the  dog  barked  behind  and 
told  him  in  that  sound  that  he  was  alone  in  the 
midst  of  the  place.  Only  the  sea  went  on  murmur- 
ing to  him  the  usual  story,  down  there  between  the 
Fariglione — for  the  sea  has  no  country,  either,  and 
belongs  to  whoever  will  pause  to  listen  to  it,  here 
or  there,  wherever  the  sun  dies  or  is  born  ;  and  at 
Aci  Trezza  it  has  even  a  way  of  its  own  of  murmur- 
ing, which  one  can  recognize  immediately,  as  it 
gurgles  in  and  out  among  the  rocks,  where  it  breaks, 
and  seems  like  the  voice  of  a  friend. 

Then  'Ntoni  stopped  in  the  road  to  look  back  at 
the  dark  village,  and  it  seemed  as  if  he  could  not 
bear  to  leave  it,  now  that  he  "knew  all,"  and  he 
sat  down  on  the  low  wall  of  Master  Filippo's  vine- 
yard. 

He  sat  there  for  a  long  time,  thinking  of  many 
things,  looking  at  the  dark  village,  and  listening  to 
the  murmur  of  the  sea  below.  He  sat  there  until 
certain  sounds  that  he  knew  well  began  to  be  heard, 


300  THE    HOUSE    BY    THE    MEDLAR-TREE. 

and  voices  called  to  each  other  from  the  doors,  and 
shutters  banged,  and  steps  sounded  in  the  dark 
streets.  On  the  beach  at  the  bottom  of  the  piazza, 
lights  began  to  twinkle.  He  lifted  his  head  and 
looked  at  the  Three  Kings,  which  glowed  in  the 
sky,  and  the  Puddara,  announcing  the  dawn,  as  he 
had  seen  it  do  so  many  times.  Then  he  bent  down 
his  head  once  more,  thinking  of  all  the  story  of  his 
life.  Little  by  little  the  sea  grew  light,  and  the 
Three  Kings  paled  in  the  sky,  and  the  houses  be- 
came visible,  one  after  another,  in  the  streets,  with 
their  closed  doors,  that  all  knew  each  other;  only 
before  Vannt  Pizzuti's  shop  there  was  the  lamp, 
and  Rocco  Spatu,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
coughing  and  spitting.  "  Before  long  Uncle  San- 
toro  will  open  the  door,"  thought  'Ntoni,  "  and  curl 
himself  up  beside  it  and  begin  his  day's  work.1' 
He  looked  at  the  sea  again,  that  now  had  grown 
purple,  and.  was  all  covered  with  boats  that  had  be- 
gun the  day's  work,  too,  then  took  his  bag,  and 
said :  "  Now  it  is  time  I  should  go,  for  people  will 
be  beginning  to  pass  by.  But  the  first  man  of 
them  all  to  begin  his  day's  work  has  been  Rocco 
Spatu." 

THE    END. 


IN    UNIFORM    STYLE. 


Thirteen  Tales. 
By  Guy  de  Maupassant.  The  Translation 
by  Jonathan  Sturges.  An  Introduction  by 
Henry  James.  16  mo,  Cloth,  $1  00. 

MARIA  :  A  South  American  Romance.  By 
Jorge  Isaacs.  The  Translation  by  Rollo 
Ogden.  An  Introduction  by  Thomas  A. 
Janvier.  16mo,  Cloth,  $1  00. 

PASTELS  IN^PROSE.  (From  the  French.) 
Translated  ~by  Stuart  Merrill.  With  150 
.Illustrations  (Frontispiece  in  Color}  by  H. 
W.  McVickar.  An  Introduction  by  Will- 
iam Dean  Howells.  IGmo,  Cloth,  $1  25. 


Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York. 

Sent  by  mail,  postage  prepaid,  to  any  part  of  the  United 
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